


A Heart's Ransom

by suehorsford



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:37:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suehorsford/pseuds/suehorsford
Summary: A tale of piracy, kidnap, and love on the high seas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first fanfic I ever read was POTC in 2005. I was madly in love with Captain Jack Sparrow and recently I was remembering that and started to think that Captain Marcus Kane had a certain ring to it! I mentioned it to the girls in the Oldies chat group who egged me on so here we are. I hope you enjoy it!

Captain Marcus Kane smiled to himself as the bag of coins gave a satisfying jingle in his pocket. That young fool would know better than to challenge him to a wager next time. It was a pity there was no time left to spend any of it, but he'd told the crew to be back on The Arkadia by midnight and he made a point of always following his own rules. To do otherwise was bad for morale and low morale among pirates was a fine excuse for mutiny.

As he sauntered along the darkened street that led to the harbour, the only sounds the money in his pocket and the heels of his boots striking the cobbles, his peace was shattered by an ear-piercing scream. He spun around, touching his hand to the hilt of his sword in a reflex action. No-one was to be seen but then the scream came again and a woman's voice shouted, "Help me, help me someone, please!"

The voice was coming from an alleyway nearby and Marcus hesitated. He really should ignore the screaming and carry on his way. It was nothing to do with him, after all. But the woman screamed again and something about the sound awoke his better nature.

Cursing himself for his soft heart, he made his way swiftly in the direction of the noise.

The woman in the alley was unfamiliar to him but he recognised the man as a drunkard who had been in the tavern earlier on, trying unsuccessfully to wheedle the tavern-keeper into extending his credit. He held the woman about the waist and appeared to be trying to kiss her.

Sighing Marcus drew his sword. "Can I help ye, lady?"

The ruffian turned in his direction but still kept a tight hold on the woman. He looked at Marcus and then at the drawn sword. "We're just 'aving a lover's tiff," he muttered. 

The woman's response was to kick him in the shin. "We are having no such thing," she said to Marcus. "I was walking home when this lout apprehended me and asked me for a kiss. I naturally declined and he thought he would force himself on me." She wriggled in the man's grasp. "Let me go!"

"You heard the lady," said Marcus calmly. "There's tavern wenches aplenty if you've coin to pay for 'em and if you haven't then I suggest you take yerself home to yer bed."

The man seemed torn for a moment, then as Marcus raised his sword, he let go of his prize. "Take her for yerself then," he muttered. "She's too skinny for my taste anyhow."

Left alone with Marcus, the lady seemed to regain her composure and she even bestowed a smile on him.

He grinned back, wondering just how naive she was not to be afraid of him. He had no intention of taking her for himself but if he had been that type of man, nothing would be easier than to push her up against a nearby wall, spread her legs and take her by force. And she was an uncommonly fine looking woman. Lady, he corrected himself, taking in her silk gown and rich velvet cloak.

"I am Lady Abigail Griffin," she announced, as if she was reading his mind. "I wonder if I might prevail on you to escort me back to my lodgings."

The name stirred a memory at the back of Kane's mind. "Lady Griffin," he said. "Are ye connected with the sugar cane Griffins by chance?"

"Sir Jacob Griffin is my husband," she said stiffly. 

Marcus frowned. Was it his imagination or did she speak her husband's name with distaste? He had heard many things of Sir Jacob Griffin but he had never heard a word about him ill-treating his wife. A thought came to him and he glanced about him to make sure they were not being observed.

"And does Sir Jacob know that his wife is walking the streets unaccompanied by even her maid?" he asked softly.

Lady Griffin looked down at her feet for a moment but when she lifted her gaze to his, her expression was determined and her chin jutting forward as if daring him to question her further. 

"It was a private matter," she said. 

So no-one knew she was here. Marcus felt the familiar thrill of adventure begin to spike his veins. Could he do this? He glanced about him again but they were still alone and though he listened for the sound of footsteps, the night was silent. 

"Allow me," he said, offering her his arm. She took it with a gracious nod of her head and they walked in silence to where the alley met the street. 

"Which way?" he asked Lady Griffin, praying that her lodging house would lie in the direction of the harbour. 

"It's just a short walk in this direction," she said, indicating the way into town. 

Marcus cursed under his breath. Well, there was only one thing for it. 

"I haven't introduced meself," he said. "I'm Marcus Kane." He bent low as if bowing to her and then in one fluid movement, he seized her around the waist and threw her over his shoulder. "Pirate," he added proudly. 

Abigail Griffin gave another piercing scream that almost deafened him and she began to punch him in his back, her little fists driving into his kidneys with surprising force even through his heavy velvet coat.

Marcus sighed to himself. He stopped and threw her further back over his shoulder so that he was now holding her around the back of the knees and she was precariously off balance. He set off again, adding a swaying to his gait to further add to her sense of insecurity. The screaming persisted though it was now thankfully a little further from his ears, but she was forced to use her hands to grab hold of the hem of his coat so at least his kidneys were safe for now. 

He could see the shape of the Arkadia now, silhouetted blackly against the moonlit sky and he hastened his steps, hoping that no-one was around to hear the unholy racket Lady Abigail was making. He carried a flintlock pistol at his waist but he'd had a pleasant evening so far and to shoot someone would entirely spoil his mood.

After what seemed an eternity, he finally walked up the gangplank of his ship to be met by his first mate. 

"Sinclair," he greeted him. "Is everyone aboard?"

"Aye, Captain," the other man said. "Now that yer good self is 'ere." He raised his eyebrows and nodded at Abigail who had resumed her struggling now that Marcus had come to a stop. "Company, Sir?"

"Treasure," announced Marcus, grinning widely. He put down his prize but kept a firm hold of her, his arm wrapped about her waist, trapping her arms as he pulled her against him. The night breeze blew her hair against his face and he caught the scent of orange flower and jasmine. He was just enjoying the sensation of having such a sweet-smelling woman in his arms when he was brought rudely back to reality by the heel of her shoe grinding into his boot.

 "My cabin now," he growled at Sinclair. He grasped hold of Abigail's wrist and pulled her after him down the steps that led to his quarters.

Once inside, he pushed her in the direction of his bed. "Sit!" he ordered her.

"I will do no such thing!" she snapped.

Marcus sighed inwardly. This was not how it was supposed to be. Ladies kidnapped by pirates were meant to swoon and beg for their liberty. He felt a pang of sympathy for Sir Jacob. Lady Abigail would not be a biddable wife, he imagined. How to proceed? He didn't want to frighten her unduly but maybe it was time to scare her just a little.

"If ye don't do as yer told this minute, wench, I'll take me belt to ye!" he thundered. "Now sit down!" He put his hand to his belt buckle as if to unfasten it and was rewarded by the sight of Abigail throwing herself down onto his bed. "Good girl," he said and she glared back at him.

In the candlelight, he had his first chance to look at her properly and by God, she was a handsome woman. The fire in her dark eyes reminded him somewhat of Callie when they were playing their games. Callie. At the thought of his sometime lover, his cock hardened in his breeches.

Callie Cartwig had been a prostitute when he first met her. Now through her own diligent saving and with a little help from Marcus, she was madam of her own brothel and only invited men into her bed when the fancy took her. She was his dearest friend, favourite bed-mate and she had never ruined it by falling in love with him.

Callie liked a good straightforward fucking as much as the next wench but she liked to play games too. "Ravish me, pirate," she'd whisper in his ear. "Pretend to take me against me will, let me fight ye."

Marcus had never taken a woman by force, the thought of an unwilling bed-mate did nothing for him and after all there was no shortage of wenches who would lift their skirts for Captain Marcus Kane. He was an excellent swordsman in more ways than one and women whispered to each other that the reason he walked with such a strutting gait was to accommodate the magnificence of his cock. In truth, he'd adopted his swagger because he felt it was befitting his station, but he enjoyed the effect it had on women and he'd never had any complaints when they came to sample the goods.  

But there was something about the way Callie would wriggle beneath him as she pretended his advances were unwelcome. She would fight as if in earnest and he would come away with bites and bruises as if he had been attempting to tame a wild animal. When he sensed she was tiring, he would seize her wrists in one hand and pin her down with his body and then he would thrust his other hand between her legs where he would find her cunt dripping wet for him. The last time he'd seen her, she'd deliberately worn old clothes and he had taken great pleasure in ripping them off her with his powerful hands until she was clad in nothing but her corset.

For a moment, he let himself imagine Abigail Griffin wriggling beneath him, her breasts bared to him, her petticoats pushed up around her waist and he almost groaned as his breeches became unbearably tight. 

"Captain." Sinclair brought him back to reality and he realised he had been staring.

He cleared his throat. "This is the Lady Abigail Griffin," he explained. "Wife to Sir Jacob Griffin, the wealthiest sugar plantation owner in the Caribbean. I intend to ask a handsome ransom for er return. If e should want er back that is," he added drily.

Abigail flushed and lowered her gaze and he was seized with a sudden doubt. What if Sir Jacob was tired of his wife and didn't want her back? Then he let his gaze wander over her body, her creamy white breasts that seemed to offer themselves to him over the top of her corset, the tiny waist he could no doubt span with his two hands. No, even if she were the greatest shrew alive, surely no man would want to part with such a wife.

"Send Murphy to me," he said to Sinclair more curtly than he intended.

"Aye, Sir," said the other man and he withdrew leaving Marcus and the Lady Abigail alone.

"Look at me," Marcus said softly.

She raised her gaze to meet his and he flinched from the pain in her eyes. The fight and the fire had gone from them leaving only an exhausted resignation.

"Was it yer husband?" he asked her. "I mentioned im and ye looked sad. Does he beat ye?"

The scorn was back in her eyes and they flashed fire as she retorted, "My husband has never lifted his hand to me in anger. He is a gentleman not a pirate!"

"Now, that's an unfair slur on pirates, Lady Abigail," he protested.

"Really? You just threatened to thrash me," she said with a triumphant smile.

Well she had him there. He could hardly admit to her that he'd never hurt a woman in his life, without losing the upper hand. Luckily he was saved from having to answer by a knock on his cabin door.

"Come in," he growled.

"You wanted to see me, Captain."

"Aye, I did. Yer still friendly with that wench, what was er name?"

"Memori," said Murphy.

"Aye that's the one." Marcus turned to Abigail and gave her a friendly grin. "Ye'd think I'd remember the name of a girl called memory, wouldn't ye now?"

A frosty stare was his only reply and he cleared his throat.

"I want ye to take a message to er and have er deliver it to...where are ye lodging, Lady Abigail?"

"Well at present, I appear to be lodging in a filthy cabin," she said tartly. "If you mean to ask me where I _was_ lodging, I was staying at the Jolly Goat."

Ignoring the filthy cabin remark but making a mental note to have it cleaned, Marcus picked up a piece of paper and a quill, dipped in in a bottle of ink and began to write.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments much appreciated. Thank you!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for all the exposition in this chapter but I wanted to give some backstory around Abigail's marriage and the only other way would have been in dialogue. I don't think she's quite ready to confide in Kane yet! Also apologises for referring to Emori as Memori. I'm spending so such time reading about ships that I'm confusing ship names with character names!

Lady Abigail watched as the pirate captain began to write what she assumed must be her ransom note. He wrote quickly and surely which surprised her. Though she supposed some pirates must have learned the skills of reading and writing, otherwise how would they decipher their maps? 

How much would he demand for her safe return? He'd been perceptive enough to notice how she'd been affected by his joke about Jacob. Maybe if he sensed that all was not well with her marriage, he would not ask for too much. Not that Jacob would hesitate to pay, whatever the price. How could he hold up his head in society if he did nothing? And he would do it for Clarke if nothing else.

Though he may feel differently when he learned what Clarke had done. Abigail could not begin to imagine how he was going to react when he found his daughter had eloped and if he ever learned that Abigail had had a hand in her disappearance... 

Her heart began to pound with anxiety at the thought and she distracted herself by wondering how Jacob would feel when he received the ransom note. Would he be afraid for her? Maybe the thought of her being in danger would reawaken something in him, make him realise that he still loved her despite the fact that they'd long grown apart. 

When she'd first met Jacob, they had been as enamoured of each other as any two people could be. He had told her how he found her wit, her spirit and her lack of convention refreshing, so unlike the insipid young ladies to whom he was usually introduced. But then they were married and everything changed.

She remembered the night as clearly as she remembered the events of yesterday. They had been at dinner with Jacob's father, Sir Edward Griffin, and some of Sir Edward's business associates and their wives. At first they had talked of society matters, discussing the pleasures and the challenges of living on a Caribbean island, so far from home. But then the conversation had turned to slavery. Abigail had very strong views on the matter and she had not hesitated to make them known, engaging in a somewhat heated debate with Sir Phillip Monroe, a gentleman who had made his entire fortune by the buying and selling of human beings. 

The following morning, she and Jacob had been summoned by Sir Edward. She had an idea why he wanted to see her, she had not missed the way he had compressed his lips and tried to stare her down over the syllabub as she was speaking about human rights and liberty. She was prepared for a dressing-down and had her responses ready on her lips. What she was not prepared for however, was that Sir Edward's fury was directed not at her but at his son. 

"If you are unable to keep your wife under control, Jacob," he had said, his eyes and his voice cold. "May I suggest that in future you leave her at home."

Jacob had protested at first, telling his father that he had married Abigail not only for her beauty but also for her intelligence, and that he was proud of the way she could express her opinions in an argument, even if he did not always agree with her views. 

But Sir Edward had treated his son's words with scorn. A wife's behaviour in public reflected on her husband, surely Jacob could see that. One day, he would inherit the family business. How could he expect to earn the confidence of business associates when he could not even control his own wife? Who could respect a man who allowed his wife to speak her mind on matters far beyond her feminine comprehension? 

Little by little, Jacob's arguments in her defence had grown weaker until finally when Abigail had attempted to speak for herself, he had told her to be quiet and that was when she'd realised that Sir Edward had won.

From that day on, her marriage had changed. She had fought Jacob every step of the way but he dealt with what he now called her 'rebelliousness' with increasing coldness until she was forced to become the wife he expected her to be or risk alienating her husband forever. 

When Clarke was born, she'd thought that things might return to how they had once been. Although not the longed for son, Clarke was the apple of her father's eye and for a few days, Jacob had showered Abigail with affection and gratitude for giving him such a precious gift. They had sat together as she held Clarke to her breast and he had stroked Abigail's hair and kissed her brow tenderly, even calling her Abby, a name that had not passed his lips for such a long time now. She had leaned her head against his shoulder and thought to herself that she had never been so happy.

But then he had engaged a nanny to take care of Clarke despite Abigail's furious protests. 

"A lady of your social standing does not spend her days taking care of infants," he had reproved her, and she had heard Sir Edward in every word. 

"And just what should I be doing with my days, Jacob?" she had demanded. "Embroidery perhaps? Practising the harpsichord? Inviting the dull wives of your dull associates to take afternoon tea?"

That was when he had threatened to send Clarke to a wet-nurse and Abigail had choked back her retort, terrified of losing the one thing that had made life worth living again. 

Some years later, Sir Edward was out riding one day when he was thrown from his horse with fatal consequences and Abigail had wondered if his father's death might release Jacob from some of his strictures. But alas, Jacob had learned his father's lessons well and Abigail had spent every day from that day to this, minding her tongue and doing her best to find happiness in her cocooned existence. 

But tonight with this pirate, a little of the old Abigail had reasserted itself. For the first time in many years, she'd felt able to speak her mind, to let out some of the fury that she'd suppressed until now. And if she were honest with herself, it had been rather satisfying. She'd particularly enjoyed hearing his hiss of pain as she had ground the heel of her shoe into his leather boot. Maybe it would be for the best if she were not rescued until tomorrow. She still had a great deal of rage to take out on the unsuspecting Captain Marcus Kane.

Kane had now written two letters and he handed one of them to the young man, Murphy. 

"When she delivers this to Sir Jacob, tell er she's to say a man in the street paid er to deliver it." He reached into his pocket and drew out a silver coin. "Give er this for er trouble." 

He took out a few more silver coins and gave them to Murphy, whose eyes lit up at the sight of them. 

"I'm trusting ye, Murphy," Kane said sternly. "This is for yer passage to Tobago where ye'll take lodgings with Mrs Cartwig until I come for ye. This letter is for ye to give to er." He handed the second letter over then he placed his hand on the young man's shoulder, gripping it firmly. "I'm counting on ye, boy."

Murphy nodded. "Yes, Captain."

"Good lad," Kane said. "Ye'll need to wait until we've left before ye do anything. We sail within the hour."

Murphy turned and left the cabin and Kane turned to Abigail, smiling pleasantly. 

"All being well, ye should be back with yer husband within the month."

"Within the month?" gasped Abigail. "And what did you mean by, we sail within the hour?"

"It's how we get from one place to another," the Captain said, grinning.

"I understand what you mean by sail, you complete imbecile," Abigail snapped. She got to her feet. "What I wish to know is, why you intend to set sail with me aboard."

Kane sauntered over to her, an annoying one-sided smirk on his face.

"Yer me captive, Lady Abigail. And that means ye go wherever I go. We're bound together, ye might say."

He stood so close to her, they were almost touching and he looked down at her with eyes that were gently mocking yet not unkind. "Ye surely didn't expect me to sit idly by and wait for the constable to arrive, did ye? We sail tonight, me love."

"I am not your love!" she said angrily. She tried to move past him but he caught her by the shoulders. 

"Ye'll need to get some sleep, Milady. Would ye care to share me supper first?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't intend to eat with you at any time." An idea came suddenly to her. She would not make it easy for this man to hold her hostage. "In fact, I don't intend to eat at all." She gave him a triumphant smile even as her heart sank at the the thought of going without food.

The pirate shook his head. "Ye'll eat, Lady, if I have to hold that pretty mouth of yours open and feed ye with me own hands."

She set her chin mutinously and glared at him. In his eyes she saw determination but also regret. This was a man who would do what needed to be done without hesitation but he would not enjoy causing her distress. 

"And where do I sleep?" she demanded.

He smirked again. "Ye'll be sleeping here in my bed."

She gasped and he laughed.

"Fear not, Abigail. Ye'll not be molested. I'll bunk in with me crew." He let his gaze wander over her body impudently. "Not that it wouldn't be a pleasure to bed ye, but I'm not sure Sir Jacob would pay to get ye back if he knew ye'd been laying with a pirate." His eyes twinkled. "I hope yer not too disappointed. The ladies do say it's a delight to lay with Captain Marcus Kane."

Abigail struggled for a moment to find the words to answer him. "It's _Lady_ Abigail to you, pirate, and how dare you insinuate that I'd...I'd be disappointed!"

Kane took her chin in his hand and looked down at her, his face only inches away from hers and his gaze seemed to heat her skin until she could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. She bit her lip and the pirate glanced at her mouth for a moment before dragging his gaze back up to her eyes. 

"Right now, ye belong to me, _Abigail_ ," he growled softly. "And I'll call ye whatever I damn well please." He stared at her for a long moment without speaking and she had the queerest notion that he was about to kiss her when he released her abruptly. 

"I'll have supper sent in to ye," he said.

With that, he turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving her trembling and strangely disturbed in a manner which was not entirely unpleasant.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, comments very welcome.Thanks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During which Marcus' resolve is sorely tested.

"Captain, sorry to bother ye."

Marcus wiped his mouth and slammed down his cup of rum onto the table. "What is it, Miller?" 

"It's the Griffin woman, Captain. She's wanting to see ye."

Marcus sighed and got to his feet. "Ye'll call her Lady Abigail in future." He made to pick up his coat from the back of his chair then thought better of it. If she was going to interrupt his leisure time, she could take him as she found him. 

He arrived at his cabin to find her pacing the floor angrily, though to his satisfaction, he saw that the plate of meat and fruit that he'd ordered for her had been finished. 

"What can I do for ye, Abigail?" he asked.

She stopped pacing and folded her arms across her chest with a scowl. "Where are the washing facilities?" she demanded. "And what am I to sleep in?"

He stared at her in astonishment. "We don't have water for washing. I can get one of the lads to throw a bucket over the side for ye but it's salt water, mind. As for sleeping, can ye not just loosen yer..." He waved in the direction of her corset. The subject of women's clothing  seemed suddenly indelicate which was ridiculous considering how often he removed it. 

"And what do I wear tomorrow?" she said. "And the day after that? Are you seriously expecting me to wear the same dress for a month?"

Marcus considered her. "Would ye like me to send for yer luggage, Milady?" he said. "And yer ladies' maid perhaps?"

She glared at him. "There is no need to be facetious, pirate."

"Ye know, Abigail, me name's Marcus." He gave her what he hoped was a friendly smile. "We'd get on a lot better if you could try to be civil."

She glared at him. "Very well, _Marcus_. I would like to know just what arrangements you intend to make for my comfort. I cannot and will not wear the same garments for a month."

He held up his hands apologetically. "I don't keep a stock of women's clothing on board me ship but if ye don't mind dressing in breeches, I can accommodate ye there." He looked her up and down, trying to imagine her tiny frame in his clothes.

"You expect me to dress in men's clothing?" she said aghast.

"Well it might be more practical," he reasoned. "After all, we're at sea now. There's nowhere ye can run from me so I won't be needing to keep ye locked up in me cabin. And yer long skirts will only trip ye up if ye care to take a stroll around the decks." He crossed over to where two large leather trunks sat next to the bed and threw one of them open. He pulled out a white cotton shirt. It was one of his best and for a moment he hesitated. "Ye can sleep in this if ye promise to look after it. As for tomorrow, I'll speak to Raven. She's more yer size."

She frowned. "You mean, there's another woman on this ship? A female pirate?"

Marcus grinned. "Aye. Have ye not heard me reputation?"

Abigail pulled out a chair from his desk and sat herself down. "You'll forgive me if I say no." She smiled sweetly at him. "I'm so dreadfully behind when it comes to pirate society gossip."

Marcus threw back his head and laughed. "Abigail, I think we should take some time to get to know one another. What d'ye say to a tot of rum?"

She gave a grimace of distaste. "Do you have any wine?"

He opened the other trunk and triumphantly drew out a bottle of port wine and two mugs. "We'll drink yer health together."

After giving the mugs a hasty wipe on the sleeve of his shirt, he pulled out the other chair and poured out two drinks.

"I've a reputation for taking on youngsters for me crew," he said without further preamble. "Someone once called me ship the nursery ship." He grinned. "E only said it once, mind."

"And why would you do that?" she asked him, seeming curious in spite of herself.

He took a swig of his wine and grimaced. He should have brought the rum with him. "Loyalty," he said simply. "A pirate captain's position isn't like that of a navy captain. We elect our captains, ye see and yer loyalty needs to be earned."

"So you recruit children?" Her question seemed to be an accusation and he leaned forward frowning.

"Not children, Abigail. Young people with no home and no family. Murphy, ye saw him before, his father was hanged and his mother, she killed erself from the grief of it. Boy had no-one and e tried to pick me pocket. I gave im the choice of a thrashing or join me crew. " He took another swig of the wine then got to his feet and went to the door and opened it. "Miller," he shouted. "Get someone to bring me some rum."

He sat back at the table and pushed the bottle towards her. "There ye go, ye can have it to yerself."

She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Is it your plan to get me intoxicated, Marcus?"

He laughed. "What, so I can have me wicked way with ye? I've never had to get a woman drunk to get er in me bed yet and I don't intend to start now." He leaned forward across the table. "I'd sooner wait until ye were willing, sweet Abigail."

Abigail blushed to the roots of her hair. "You'd have a long wait, Captain. I wouldn't let you touch me if you begged me."

He laughed again, this time to cover his discomfort. Damn her. How had she made him want her so badly? "Don't worry yerself, Abigail," he found himself saying. "I'll make sure not to touch ye unless yer the one doing the begging."

She drew herself up in angry hauteur but before she had a chance to answer, there was a knocking at his cabin door. "Come in," he said.

The door opened and in walked Raven with a full bottle of rum. "Here ye go, Marcus."

"It's Captain in front of company," he complained. He shook his head and turned to Abigail. "She pays me no respect, this one. She thinks because she's a lass, I won't be punishing er." He took the rum and poured himself a large mugful. "I was telling the Lady Abigail about me young crew. Perhaps ye might want to tell er how ye came to be on me ship."

"I'd like nothing better, Captain," she said. "But I seem to ave a terrible thirst."

He pushed his mug towards her and took the bottle for himself.

Raven smirked at him. Cheeky wench. If he wasn't so fond of her...

"Captain found me in a whorehouse," she said. "I was sixteen and I'd never been ad by a man. So I was special ye see. Mistress was saving me for someone with gold." She stopped and took a swig of rum.

Abigail's hand had flown to her mouth. "Why, Raven, that's dreadful. How on earth did you end up there, you poor girl?"

Marcus glanced at her in surprise. Her concern for Raven had transformed her whole face. Gone were the anger and the distrust and in their place the expression of a concerned mother. 

Raven shrugged. "Me mother was a whore and I grew up in a whorehouse. Mistress was kind enough to me after me mother died, gave me board and lodgings for free at first. Then she said I'd to earn me keep." She drained the rest of her mug and held it out to Marcus for a refill.

He poured rum into it, shaking his head. He'd heard her tell this story many a time, and it never failed to make him shudder at the thought of what might have happened to her if he hadn't been the man with the gold. 

"So one night," said Raven. "She comes and says to me that I'm to get meself ready. There's a pirate captain just walked in and she's promised im something special."

"I didn't know she meant a young girl," Marcus put in hurriedly. "She showed me into er best room and there's Raven, wearing nothing but er corset and all I can think of is she's young enough to be me bloody daughter!"

"E threw his coat around me to cover me up," said Raven laughing and casting a fond glance towards him. "Then e asked me what I was doing there and I told im I had nowhere else to go."

"And that's how I ended up with a girl on me ship," Marcus finished. "Talking of which, yer not much taller than Lady Abigail. Can you find er some clothes and bring em to er in the morning?"

Raven put her cup down. "Aye, Captain. I'll go and find some now."

She got up and left the cabin giving him another smirk on her way. Incorrigible girl!

He turned back to Abigail who was watching him with a strange expression on her face. Maybe it was the wine. "So now ye know," he said. "I don't just go snatching kids off the streets to serve on me ship."

"No, you give them a home," she said. "Security, a family. I do believe you're not such a bad man as you make out, Marcus Kane."

"I'm not a saint," he said quickly. God if she kept on looking at him like that, with those huge dark eyes, he was going to say or do something he'd later regret. She was forbidden fruit. If he took her, he'd spoil her for Sir Jacob and she'd be worthless. 

"Tell me about yer family," he said, desperate to shift the attention from himself and he instantly regretted it as her face fell.

"I have a daughter," she said. "She's seventeen, strong-willed and independent."

"I wonder where she gets that from," said Marcus drily.

She nodded in acknowledgement. "I never cared about whether she made a good match. I just wanted her to find a good man who would make her happy, someone who would allow her to be herself. Particularly as..." She bit her lip and he waited patiently for her to go on. She sighed. "Well anyway, Sir Jacob _did_ want her to make a good match. He wanted her to marry Cage Wallace, the son of a wealthy sugar merchant. He felt that it made good business sense." She shook her head and when she went on, her voice was tight with anger. "As if our daughter was merely an asset." She took a swig of her wine and pulled a face. "But you know, if Cage had been suitable in other ways, I wouldn't have minded so much. But there was something about him. I disliked him on sight and so, more importantly, did Clarke." She took another sip of wine and shook her head. "You know this wine is not good, Marcus, not good at all."

He picked up the rum bottle and poured some into her mug. "Try it now."

She took another sip and nodded almost happily. "Much better, Captain."

He stifled a smile. Was it his imagination or was Lady Abigail Griffin more than a little tipsy? "Go on," he prompted her. "Did yer daughter marry this man?"

"Oh no," she said. "Jacob and Dante Wallace are arranging the wedding as we speak but it's too late because..."

"Because?"

She peeped up at him like a naughty child. "Promise you won't say anything?"

He pushed her mug towards her. "Drink yer rum and tell me everything, Abigail. I promise yer, I'm the soul of discretion."

She took another great swig of rum and he felt a momentary pang of guilt. She'd have a bad head in the morning. But he was enjoying the way the alcohol had loosened her tongue. She was good company and he found himself wishing the evening would never end.

"A few months ago, Clarke came to me with a confidence," she said. "She'd become acquainted with a young man, Bellamy Blake. She introduced me to him, and although the boy has no family connections, I confess that was the only fault I could find with him."

"So yer daughter fell in love with a pauper?" 

She shook her head. "No, not a pauper. I wanted my daughter to marry for love but I scarcely wish for her to live her life in poverty. Mr Blake was taken in by a family of our acquaintance when he was a young boy and educated at their expense. He has recently returned from England where he attended university before entering the law. He boarded a ship tonight to take him back to England where he will join a prestigious law firm. And Clarke..." She faltered and took another swig from her mug.

"Yer daughter's heartbroken," Marcus said sympathetically.

"No, Captain." She raised her gaze to his and he saw that her eyes were glittering with unshed tears. "It is I who am heartbroken. Tonight when you found me, you asked me why I was out without my maid. The truth is, I was saying goodbye to my daughter. Clarke has sailed for England with the man she loves. By now, the captain will have married them and I may never see her again." She gave a shuddering sigh and drained the rest of her mug then held it out to him for a refill.

Marcus hesitated. "Ye don't want to drink too much, Abigail," he said softly.

She glared at him. "I want to get drunk. I want to get so drunk I forget everything." She got to her feet. "If you won't pour me a drink, I'll help myself."

She made her way round the table and reached for the bottle and as she did so, the ship lurched to one side and she lost her balance, falling towards him.

Marcus grabbed her before she could fall on top of him. There was only so much he could take and the thought of her sitting in his lap was more than he could he could bear. Especially right now, with her so soft and tearful. He desperately wanted to comfort her but the less physical contact he had with her the better. 

He stood up and took her arm firmly but impersonally. "I'm captain on this ship and I get to say when someone's had enough rum. I've safety to think about and ye've drank enough for one night." He steered her unresisting towards the bed. "Ye'd be better off getting some sleep, Abigail. It'll look different in the morning."

As they reached the bed, the ship gave another lurch, almost as if on purpose, and they ended up on the bed with Abigail lying on her back and Marcus on top of her. Horrified, he tried to rise but to his astonishment, Abigail grabbed hold of his shirt.

"You know you're not entirely unattractive for a pirate," she said.

"Well, thank you for the compliment," he said, vainly trying to rise.

She brought one hand up to his beard and scraped her fingers through it, making him bite back a moan. "I don't normally find beards attractive," she said. "But yours really suits you."

He managed to disentangle himself from her grip and rose from the bed. "Lady Abigail, I suggest ye get some sleep now. Ye don't want to say anything ye'll regret in the morning."

She sat up and nodded vigorously then took a deep breath. "Oh, I shouldn't have done that. The room is spinning." She put a hand to her mouth and he noticed that her skin had become pale and clammy.

He took her arm and helped her off the bed. "C'mon, Abigail. Let's get ye some fresh air."

He managed to get her out of his cabin where she tried to pull out of his grip and get to the side of the ship. He pulled her back. 

"Ye'd better come to the other side, Abigail if ye don't want to end up splattered with yer own dinner."

He successfully manoeuvred his charge to the leeward side of the ship where she lent over the side and vomited up everything she had eaten. Because of the pitching of the ship, he was forced to wrap an arm tightly around her waist lest she fall and he found himself rubbing her back with his other hand. 

When she'd finished puking she stood up straight and leaned weakly against his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said. "That wasn't pretty."

"It's me who should be sorry," he said, overcome with remorse. "I plied ye with drink."

"To have your wicked way with me," she whispered but he thought he detected amusement in her voice.

"Aye, Abigail," he murmured. "And now I'll be taking ye to me bed."

He steered her back into his cabin and deposited her on his bed where he stood looking down at her. "Get some sleep now," he said. "I'll have Raven bring ye some water to swill yer mouth out."

She frowned and tugged at the laces of her dress. "I need help with this."

"I'll get er to help you undress too," he said backing away from her.

"I don't need help to undress," she said crossly. "I just need these to come undone and they won't." She tugged impatiently again and looked as though she was about to try to rip them open.

"Look, yer just making it tighter," he said helplessly. 

"Well help me then!"

Offering up a quick prayer for self-control, he knelt on the bed and with trembling fingers, he pulled open the laces that held her dress closed. His fingers brushed against her bosom as he did and he bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

"There," he said straightening up as swiftly as if he had been bitten. "If yer need help with anything else, ye'll need to ask Raven. I'll be wishing ye a good night."

Before she could say anything else to test his resolve he made a hasty exit and slammed the door behind him. He took a moment to lean against the door with his eyes closed. This was going to be a long voyage. 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments welcome as ever. Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

For a moment when Abigail awoke, she struggled to remember where she was. Then the ship pitched as it hit a wave, and bile rose in her throat. She sat up too quickly and winced as a vice seemed to clamp around her forehead. After taking a moment to recover, she pulled back the covers and got to her feet, widening her stance to keep her balance. On the table was a jug which, she remembered vaguely from last night, contained water. She crossed over to it, and unable to locate where she had left the mug that had been brought with it, she held the jug to her mouth and drank thirstily. Water spilled out and down the front of the shirt the captain had given her to wear, and she glanced down and saw that her breasts were clearly visible through the wet cotton. Where had she left her clothes? She must get dressed immediately. It would not do at all for the pirate to see her like this. It might give him ideas.

Suddenly she remembered and she sat down heavily on a chair. Dear God! Had she...had she flirted with him last night or had that just been a terrible dream? Had she really asked him to unlace her gown? A blush crept into her cheeks as she remembered touching his beard and what was more, how she had liked the feel of it beneath her fingers, soft and rough at the same time. 

Just then, there was a soft knocking at the door.

"Don't come in," she cried, panicking.

"Mistress Abigail, it's only me," came a female voice.

"Raven, come in," she called.

The door opened and in came the girl pirate with an armful of clothing. "I've brought ye some of me clothes," she said cheerfully. "I dare say they're not as fine as yer used to, but I can tell ye from experience they're a lot more comfortable than corsets and long skirts."

"Thank you, Raven." Abigail smiled at the girl. She had made up her mind to cultivate a friendship with the female pirate. If she really was to be held captive on this ship for a month as the captain had said, then it would be prudent to have a friend among the crew.

"Yer welcome," the girl replied. "Do ye need any help or would ye prefer me to leave? I grew up in a brothel so no need to be shy of yerself in front of me."

"No need for either course of action," Abigail answered. "I'm sure I can dress myself with no corset to manage but I'd like you to stay, if you have a mind."

"Aye, I've a mind," said Raven, sitting down at the table. "Kane's ordered me to be of service to ye in any way ye need."

Abigail peeled off the captain's wet shirt and replaced it with one of Raven's. It was a better fit than Kane's and at least it was dry, but she still felt naked without her corset. She gazed down at her chest. and frowned.

"Ye'll feel better with yer waistcoat," said Raven indicating a woolen garment. 

With the addition of the waistcoat and a pair of breeches, Abigail felt a good deal more decent and had to admit that the breeches were much more comfortable than her petticoats. Still they did not leave a lot  to the imagination and she was glad that the waistcoat was long enough to hide the curve of her behind. 

"Ye can borrow me shoes if ye like," said Raven, proffering a pair of black flat shoes that had seen better days. "Ye might not want to walk the decks in yer fancy satin slippers."

"Thank you," said Abigail, slipping them onto her feet. Now fully attired, she sat back in her chair and regarded the pirate girl shrewdly. "So, do you enjoy this life?" she asked her. "You don't miss living on dry land?"

Raven gave a throaty laugh. "What could I do on land?" she asked. "Sell me body like me mother or serve in a tavern letting meself be groped for free?" She shook her head. "No thank you. Here, I'm an equal with the men and no-one would dare lay a finger on me." She laughed again. "They didn't like it at first but no-one would dare go against Kane." There was a look of pride in her eyes as she spoke, she clearly adored the captain and Abigail found herself warming to him because of it. Raven was right. There was nothing for her in this world where one had to be born into a good family to make anything of their life. Still...she had thrown in her lot with criminals and the only ending for her could be on the hangman's noose. Abigail shuddered at the thought. 

"You're very fond of the captain," she said. "I imagine he's like a father to you."

This time Raven laughed so hard she almost choked and alarmed, Abigail thrust the jug of water towards her.

Raven took a great swig of water and then wiped her eyes from which tears of mirth were pouring. "Oh, Lady Abigail," she finally managed before collapsing in laughter again.

"What's so amusing?" asked Abigail, feeling an irresistible urge to laugh too. "And please, call me Abigail."

"I'm sorry, Abigail," said Raven at last. "But that was just so funny. Kane as me father? I dare say if ye were to ask im if he thought of me as is daughter, e might well say yes." She sobered and a wistful look came over her. "I'd rather e was me lover," she said.

"Oh!" said Abigail, taken aback by the girl's frankness. "Oh...and has he...has he never?" She stopped, unaware of how to continue without being indelicate. 

Raven shook her head with a grimace. "Not so much as a kiss," she said. "Not even after a whole bucket of rum." She sighed. "Reckon e thinks I'm too young for im, what with me being sixteen when he found me and all. Reckon e'll always think of me as a girl, and a man like Kane, e wants a woman."

She was staring at Abigail as she spoke and the older woman felt herself blush. There had been that moment last night when he had looked at her as if he was thinking of kissing her.

"Besides, what would e want with me when e's got Callie?"

"I...who?" Abigail felt a fluttering in her chest as if a small bird were trapped in there, beating its wings to escape. It felt almost as if she were jealous. How ridiculous!

If Raven noticed her consternation she paid it no attention. "Callie's the captain's lover," she said. She seemed philosophical as she said it as if she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never know her captain in that way. "She lives on Tobago, Kane bought her a brothel there."

"Oh! That was very...er generous of him."

"E didn't like the thought of er sleeping with all those men for money," Raven said.

"Well, no. I should imagine it made him very jealous," said Abigail.

"Oh it weren't jealousy," said Raven cheerfully. "She can pleasure erself with whoever she wants. E just didn't like the thought of er having to do it for money."

"So they're not exclusive then?" said Abigail. At Raven's puzzled expression, she said, "They both have other...other lovers?"

"Oh yes," said Raven. "The captain likes is women. And they like im too," she added ruefully. "They say e's a fine cocksman. They say..."

"Raven, please!" Abigail held up a hand for the girl to desist. 

Raven grinned at her. "Sorry, Abigail. But you did ask so I thought maybe you were interested for yerself."

"Certainly not." Abigail straightened her shoulders. "And if you don't mind, Raven, I think we should talk about something else. We've wasted quite enough breath on Captain Marcus Kane."

Raven arched her eyebrows but said merely, "Ye'll be wanting breakfast I suppose."

"I do but I don't want you to wait on me, Raven. You're not my servant."

"Well maybe not," said Raven. "But Kane did say I was to get you anything you needed."

"Well I'm not about to do what pleases Kane," said Abigail a little more hotly than she'd intended. "I am more than capable of fetching my own breakfast. If you would lead the way to the dining room please, Raven."

"The dining...oh er right then. Follow me," said Raven with a sigh. "But if the captain skelps me arse for not waiting on you..."

"You just leave the captain to me," Abigail said firmly.

 

Up on deck, Abigail had to shield her eyes from the sun and at the same time avert them from the crew. All around her were roughly dressed men who stared at her, some with wariness, others with interest, the vast majority with rapaciousness. She kept her head held high and reminded herself that as a hostage for ransom, she would be under the captain's personal protection.

They found Kane at the front of the ship, the bow, she reminded herself. He was deep in conversation with another man who was at the wheel. At their approach both men turned. The captain ran an appraising gaze over Abigail's male attire and she felt her cheeks burning under his scrutiny.

"Do you have a problem, Captain?" she said in as icy tones as she could manage.

 He shook his head with a smirk that she wanted to kiss...no, slap from his face. "Raven's clothes fit ye well," he said. 

She decided not to reply to this but tugged her waistcoat down as far as she could. "I wish to eat," she said. "So, if you would care to point me in the direction of whatever passes for a dining room on this tub, I'd be much obliged." 

Kane's eyes opened wide. He took a step towards her and she couldn't help taking a step backwards. "This tub as ye call her, is a brigantine," he roared. "She's a hundred and fifty tons of prime sailing ship. She can carry a hundred men and ten cannons. She is not a tub and she does _not_ have a dining-room!"

She gasped and Kane immediately looked contrite. "I'm sorry for scaring ye, Abigail. Truth is, ye can say what ye like about me, but when ye insult me ship, it's like ye insult me child." And he clapped his hand to his chest theatrically.

She recovered quickly. "Don't be so dramatic," she said. "I'm assuming you didn't build the ship with your own hands, did you?"

He grinned at her. "Stole it," he said.

The men around them burst into mocking laughter and Abigail lifted her chin proudly. "Shall I go without breakfast then as you appear determined not to assist me in procuring any for myself?"

Kane offered her his arm as if he was a gentleman. "This way, Milady."

Without thinking she took the proffered arm and let him lead her away from the laughing sailors. To her surprise, he took her back to his cabin.

"So, I'm to be kept locked up in here, am I?" she demanded.

"Now look who's being dramatic," he said. "Ye asked me where the dining-room was. If ye want to sit at a proper table to eat yer food, then this is the only place on the ship. I'll not have ye down in what passes for a galley, it's not safe. Ye can tell me what ye want to eat and I'll bring it to ye with me own hands."

"May I see the menu?" she said drily.

Kane threw his head back and gave a great hearty laugh. "Abigail, I'll miss ye when I ave to give ye back," he said. "Maybe I'll keep ye after all. Yer a damn sight more entertaining than that lot out there."

She smiled. "Oh, I think money will win out every time over entertainment, Captain. Just how much did you ask for me, anyway?"

"Now, now," he said, wagging a finger at her. "A gentleman never discusses business with a lady." He looked around the room and his gaze fell on his shirt which she had thoughtlessly thrown on the floor. "Me best shirt!" he said, retrieving it from where it lay. "And ye've got it wet." He shook his head at her. "Ye can tell ye have servants at home to tidy up after ye. Did yer mother never teach yer to pick up after yerself?"

She felt oddly chastened by his words. "I...I'm sorry," she said. "I just dropped it there when I was dressing. I didn't mean to..."

"Abigail," he said softly. "I'm teasing ye, sweetheart. Don't look so worried. I'm sorry if I frightened ye before when I yelled at ye about calling me ship a tub. I'm not the blackhearted rogue ye think I am, ye know."

It was on the tip of her tongue to upbraid him for calling her sweetheart and to assure him that he was indeed a blackhearted rogue but he was looking at her with such a great deal of warmth and kindness that the scornful words would not come. So she simply nodded. "Just some bread and fruit if you have it, please,"

"Well we're one day at sea so I can oblige ye there," he said. "Make the most of the fresh food though. It won't last." He pulled out a chair for her. "Sit down, Abigail. I'll be back directly."

Left to her own devices, Abigail took an opportunity to look around the cabin. Against one wall was a beautiful oak bookcase. She wandered over to it and pulled a book out at random: _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire_ by Edward Gibbon. Obviously just for show. She couldn't imagine Marcus Kane reading something so educational. She pulled out another: Rousseau's _The Social Contract_  , so well-thumbed that the pages were almost coming away from the spine. Obviously whoever Kane had stolen his ship from had been a scholarly gentleman. She glanced about her. The room would be much improved with a little tidying and a good dusting. She itched to do it herself, she could not stand to be idle. She began by picking up his shirt from where he'd thrown it over a chair and she smoothed out the creases as best she could and hung it over the end of the bed, then she straightened the bed-covers.

As she was wondering what she could use to dust with, the door opened and Kane came in bearing a tray with half a loaf of bread, a dish of butter and a couple of mangoes. Also on the tray were two plates. "Ye don't mind if I eat with ye, do ye?" he asked.

"It's your cabin," she answered. But she spoke with good humour. There was no point in antagonising him at this point. "I was looking at your books," she teased him. "You evidently read a great deal, Captain. And such titles too. _The Social Contract_ no less."

"Man is born free; and everywhere e is in chains," he quoted, smiling at her.

"So you've read the first page," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"There is no evildoer who could not be made good for something,” he retorted, raising his own brows in turn.

"You've read the whole book?" she asked. 

Kane cut a slice from the loaf and spread it thickly with butter before handing it to her. "Ye sound surprised," he said. "Ye think because a man owns no land, e has no intellect."

Abigail felt herself blush. "You're right," she said, abashed. "I shouldn't make assumptions. I apologise."

He shook his head, smiling. "Ye can't help it. Ye've led a sheltered life." He picked up one of the mangoes and cut into it then took a bite. As he chewed, he watched her intently and she felt unable to drag her gaze from his. He really did have the most mesmerising eyes, dark as the coffee beans which were sold loose in baskets on the market, with all the intensity and fire of a young man, gentled with the wisdom and care of an older man. She shook herself mentally. Dear God, she was becoming quite fanciful. His eyes were brown, pure and simple, with perhaps flecks of gold like...no. She forced herself to look away.

"Do ye miss yer husband, Abigail?" Kane said, and she started guiltily. She realised she had not thought once of Jacob since awakening. "Of course I do," she said with some asperity. "Why would I not?"

He shrugged. "Ye've not mentioned him to me aside from asking how much yer ransom was, and I got the feeling that was nothing but idle curiosity. Are ye worrying e'll not pay up?"

She flushed. "Are _you_ worrying that he won't pay up? What will you do with me if he refuses to pay? Will you kill me?"

Kane stared at her for a long moment. "I've never killed a woman in me life," he said eventually. He smirked at her. "We'd have to find some other use for ye, I suppose."

"I'd rather throw myself to the sharks!" she said, drawing herself up in hauteur. 

The captain threw back his head and laughed. "I was planning on putting ye to work as a pirate, but by all means, if ye think I'd have a better use for ye, I'm all ears."

Abigail folded her arms across her chest. "I refuse to participate in lewd conversations with a pirate," she said primly.

"Really?" he said. "So yer saying if I wasn't a pirate, ye _would_ have a lewd conversation with me."

She opened her mouth to scold him but caught the glint of mischief in his eye and couldn't help but laugh.

"You, Captain, are incorrigible."

"So they say," he remarked. He got to his feet. "I've duties to see to, so I'll be leaving ye now. I'll send Raven in to ye so ye'll not miss me company too much."

She shook her head at him. "You think you are scintillating company, no doubt."

He shrugged. "I'm not what yer used to I'll admit, but at least I've made ye laugh."

He treated her to that attractive, one-sided smirk again, then turned and left her alone.

It was a shame he was a pirate really, she thought. He did have something about him and if he'd been a gentleman, he would been a good catch. For any woman that was interested in that sort of thing of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments much appreciated, thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

"Here ye go, Abigail," said Marcus, putting a plate of food in front of her. "This is the last of the fresh beef. The rest is to be salted to last the voyage." He frowned anxiously as she surveyed the meal before her: beef, black beans, vegetables and a hunk of bread. He placed a bottle of rum on the table. "This will help wash it down if it's not to yer palate."

To his relief, she smiled at him. "It looks perfectly adequate, Marcus. I do hope I'm not taking food from the mouths of your crew."

"No, yer not. We all eat the same aboard the Arkadia," he reassured her, wondering what had happened to effect such a change in her. Was this the same woman who just last night had threatened to starve herself? He shook his head. Women were strange creatures, there was no denying that.

He looked about him, eyes widening as he took in the sight of his cabin, every surface softly gleaming in the candlelight. "Ye've been busy in here," he said. "It looks...cleaner."

"Well I had to find a way to occupy my time," she said. "Fortunately, I found a rag to chase away the layers of dust you seemed to have been collecting."

He followed the direction of her gaze and almost choked upon his dinner as he saw that she was looking at his lucky bandana. He didn't wear it upon his head anymore now that he was a captain with a fine gentleman's hat, but he was too superstitious to throw it away. He opened his mouth to complain but then he looked into her eyes, soft and dark in the candlelight and he swallowed back his words. "Thank ye, Abigail," he said. 

Damn! What was it about this woman? Normally when Captain Marcus Kane was in the company of an attractive woman, the only thing on his mind was bedding her. But Abigail made him want to take her in his arms and hold her, to breathe in the jasmine scent of her hair, to gaze into those bewitching eyes until he was lost forever. He stared down at his plate. This was not good, not good at all. He hadn't felt this way since... He tried to push the memory of her away but it was too late. The old familiar pain was making itself known, twisting his heart so that it was all he could do not to cry out. And with the thought of her came the memory of... No, he would not think about them now. It was more than he could bear.

"Marcus, are you all right? Are you displeased because I cleaned your cabin?"

"No, no," he said, forcing a smile. "Ye did a grand job and I'm grateful for it. I was thinking of the past, that was all. Ye reminded me of someone for a second."

She stared back at him for a long moment. He tried to avoid looking into her eyes and his gaze dropped to her mouth. As he did so, her lips parted with an audible breath and that was when the realisation struck him. That was the reason for her change of attitude towards him. A strange mixture of pride and horror came over him. It was flattering that a lady such as herself should be attracted to him but he was suddenly aware of a great responsibility. She was not the type of woman with whom he normally consorted. There was a reason he lay with whores and it had nothing to do with the tricks they had for pleasing a man. No, what made them so appealing was that they were professional lovers, able to separate the joys of the flesh from matters of the heart. Whereas Lady Abigail Griffin...It was clear that not all was well with her marriage and while he was aware that ladies of quality often took lovers, he knew instinctively that Lady Abigail was not one of those women. Which meant that her heart was free for the taking and all he had to do was reach out.

He picked up the rum and took a long swig from the bottle, welcoming the way the alcohol burned his throat on the way down. 

"How did you become a pirate?" she asked, startling him. "Was your father a pirate?"

Marcus choked on his drink. "No, me father was a drunkard." He was well aware of the irony of making this statement with a bottle of rum in his hand and he prayed she wouldn't remark upon it. If she was to compare him to the bastard who had sired him, he would swear off the drink for the rest of his life. She said nothing though, merely looked at him with understanding in her beautiful dark eyes. They were the precise colour of cinnamon, he thought fancifully and he took another great swig of rum to blot out the sudden desire to take her in his arms and kiss her like she'd never been kissed before. 

"We lived in Glasgow, Scotland," he said, taking refuge in the shadows of the past. "I was the youngest of five and the only child to survive the rigours of infancy. Me mother was a weaver and me father would drink away what little money she earned and beat er when it was all spent. E left us when I was ten years old. I was a weaver meself by then but me mother, she wanted better for me. She had a fancy I might take employment in a big house and work me way up to butler. 'I can just see ye in a fine suit, Marcus Kane,' she'd say to me. But that life was not for me. I'm not a man to wait on me betters. Saving yerself, me lady," he said, grinning. "Anyway, I must have mentioned to er once that I'd a mind to go to sea, to explore beyond the confines of home. Because after that, she'd mention it often. Then, when I was fourteen, she became ill." He paused and took another great swig of rum. "It was the consumption. I worked all the hours I could so that I could afford a doctor for er but e was an honest man and e told me not to waste me money. There was nothing e or anyone could do for er, e told me. She weakened all through the winter and she kept on telling me, go to sea, Marcus. Find a ship and get yerself away from here.' But I wouldn't leave er. How could I?" 

He stopped as a small hand took hold of his and squeezed reassuringly.

"You were a loving son," Abigail said gently.

"Aye," he said, his throat constricting. He took her hand in his and gazed down at it, noting the smooth polished nails and the white skin that had never known manual labour. He felt a pang of guilt for bringing her into this environment where she had felt the need to pick up a cloth and dust her own living quarters before she could be comfortable. But when he'd seen her there on the street alone, he'd been blinded by the thought of how much gold she could bring in, he had not stopped to think how it would affect her to be taken away from all that was familiar. 

"You don't have to go on if it's too painful for you," she said, mistaking his silence for reluctance.

He let go of her hand and smiled. "No, it's all right," he said. He picked up the bottle then realised he had been keeping it to himself. He poured some into a cup and handed it to her. "Take it easy, won't ye?" he said. "I don't want to have to hold ye over the side of me ship again."

She coloured prettily. "I'll be careful," she promised him.

He poured himself a cupful then sat back in his chair. "I don't know who she talked to," he said. "But one night two men came to the house. They said they'd come to take me to sea with them. I told them I couldn't leave me mother but she...she told them to take me." He bit his lip.

"She didn't want you to have to watch her die," Abigail said, her voice so warm with sympathy it was his undoing. "She sounds like a wonderful woman. I would have liked to have known her. What was her name?"

"Vera," he said, his eyes shining with tears. He would never normally allow a woman to see him like this, not even Callie. But somehow it didn't matter that he was letting his guard down in front of Abigail. "They gave er some money, said it was me wages for the voyage and that made it easier. At least I knew she'd have food and wood for the fire. Then they... they dragged me away and I never saw er again."

He cleared his throat. "So anyway, I was taken aboard a merchant ship and was at sea for 6 months. Then afterwards, I joined a ship of his majesty's navy. I'd heard the food was better." He grinned at her. "Well it was fine at first, but then our captain took sick and died and we got a new captain. E was a sadistic bastard, pardon your presence, Abigail. E took the best rations for imself and left the crew half starving. We had a cabin boy, e was in charge of preparing the food and the captain caught im helping imself." He grimaced at the memory. "This captain, e flogged the lad with is own hands, fair took the skin from is back with is whip. We all knew it wasn't right, e was just a kid and the captain should have used a cane not a whip.  E didn't seem as if e was ever going to stop. Then Sinclair, ye met im when I brought ye aboard, e steps forward and e says. 'with respect, captain, ye'll kill the boy if ye don't stop.' Well the captain, e didn't take kindly to one of is crew telling im what to do. E orders the men to take Sinclair and strip im. 'Ye'll take the whipping for im then,' e says. So we all stand there, no-one's willing to do what e says, we've been on the verge of mutiny for some time and it's looking like now might be the moment. I'm standing there, me blood pounding through me veins with fear and excitement, the penalty for mutiny in the king's navy is hanging, ye know. So when the lad up in the crow's nest shouts 'pirates!' it was almost a relief."

Abigail was staring at him, her mouth open in astonishment. "What a wicked, wicked man," she said. "But weren't you afraid of being killed by the pirates?"

Marcus shrugged. "All sailors know that if ye don't fight back, pirates will take what they came for and leave ye to live. Makes it easier ye see, if men know ye'll let them live, they're more likely to surrender without a fight. Captains will usually put the lives of their crew before any cargo but this captain, well we just didn't know." He laughed out loud. "Turns out this captain was terrified. E actually pi...well we could see e was scared, put it that way. E more or less invited them aboard to stay for dinner. Anyway, they were going through everything, taking what they needed when their captain, e catches sight of the cabin boy. E'd collapsed on the deck and is back was bleeding something terrible. This pirate captain, e looks angry and e wants to know who did this to the boy. Our captain says it was im and e was just handing out discipline and the pirate captain e just shoots im in the head, kills im just like that."

Abigail gasped. "I'm sure I shouldn't say this," she said. "But in this instance I find myself siding with the pirate captain. So what did you all do without a captain?"

"Well the first lieutenant would have taken charge," he said. He chuckled. "But I didn't wait around to find out. I was finished with the navy. So when Sinclair says can e go with the pirates, I found meself saying take me too. And that, dear Lady Abigail, is how Marcus Kane, respectable navy seaman, became a pirate." He drained his cup and sat back in his chair.

"And how did you find yourself master of your own ship?" she asked him.

He got to his feet. "Another story for another day," he said. "For now, ye need to finish yer dinner and then if ye like, I'll take ye for a turn about the deck."

 

"She's a beautiful vessel," said Abigail as he explained how the fore and aft sails enabled the ship to sail fast in every imaginable wind condition. "I'm truly sorry for calling her a tub."

"Hmm," he said, raising his eyebrows at her in mock sternness, "I'm sure she'll forgive ye this once."

"Why are ships considered female, do you suppose?" she asked, turning to face him so that her hair whipped about her face in the night breeze. He had to clench his fists to stop himself from stroking it away from her brow. He had hoped that bringing her out here away from the candlelit cabin might distract him from her beauty, but she was just as bewitching in the moonlight.

He cleared his throat. "Well, she's unpredictable, she needs an experienced man to handle er and she's b-beautiful." Damn why had he stuttered then like a virgin with his first girl?

But she seemed not to have noticed. "Do you ever get tired of looking at the stars?" she said dreamily, looking up at the vast night sky above them. 

"Never," he said. "To a sailor, the night sky is like a map, showing us the way to go."

She laughed. "Very prosaic, Captain. I'm sure the stars are invaluable at sea, but I was talking of their beauty."

"Oh, aye, they are beautiful," he said. He was looking in her eyes as he spoke and for a moment he wondered if he was talking about the stars at all. 

As if she had caught his thought on the breeze, she bit her lip and looked away from him, turning her attention once more to the sky above them. "I always wonder about the constellations," she said and there was the slightest tremor in her voice. "I can never make sense of them."

"Well there's Scorpius," he said. "Ye can't deny that it does look like a scorpion."

"Where?" she said eagerly. 

"There," he said, bringing his hand up and indicating the constellation with his finger.

She laughed again. "You are a good deal taller than me, Marcus. How do I know where in the sky you are pointing?"

He came to stand behind her and stooped so that his chin was almost on her shoulder. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils and he had to restrain an impulse to breathe her in deeply. "Lift yer arm and point at the moon," he said, his voice husky. 

She did as he said and then he took her hand in his and moved it gently until it was pointing at Antares. Her hand seemed to tremble in his and he wondered if any man had ever suffered such exquisite agony as he was suffering right now. 

"Do ye see the red star?" he asked her.

"Red? Oh yes, compared to the blueness of the surrounding stars, I suppose it is red," she said.

"That's Antares, the heart of the scorpion," he told her. "If ye look above it, ye'll see its head and if ye follow it downwards, ye'll see its tail."

"Oh yes," she said in a voice filled with wonder and delight. "That's the first constellation I've ever seen. Thank you, Marcus."

She turned to him, her eyes outshining the brightest stars in the sky and he caught his breath. If he were to kiss her right now...

"Ship ahoy!" came a shout. 

The quiet deck was suddenly alive with activity. Marcus turned to see Sinclair, almost running towards him, spyglass in his hand.

"Ye'll want to take a look, Captain," he said, his voice grim.

Marcus raised the telescope to his eye and looked towards the horizon. His heart sank at what he saw. "Jaha," he said.

"Aye, Captain," said Sinclair. "Are we to fight?"

Marcus shook his head. "E doesn't want our lives. E only wants our gold so e can continue is insane quest to the so-called city of light." He shook his head in disgust. "A grown man believing in fairy tales." He gazed down at Abigail who was wide-eyed with apprehension. "Now look," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "Yer not in any danger. Jaha's not a killer, e's a thief. But I want ye to go to me cabin and get into me bed. If e comes in, yer to say yer me wench." He caught sight of Raven. "Raven!" he bellowed. "Go with the Lady Abigail. Keep er safe."

"Aye, Captain," said Raven.

He watched them go to his cabin and then let out a shaking sigh. If Jaha realised Abigail's worth, he would take her as plunder. And that was when he realised. He didn't care about Jaha getting his hands on the ransom that was meant for him and his crew. He only cared about losing her. 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough waters ahead, I'm afraid.

With her heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would burst out of her chest at any moment, Abby raced into Kane's cabin and into his bed, pulling the covers tightly around her in an effort to feel safe. 

"What are ye doing, Abigail?" said Raven, coming in behind her.

"M-Marcus said I was to pretend to be his wench," she answered, wondering why she felt ten times more afraid than when Marcus had snatched her off the street in the first place. 

Raven laughed. "I know e has an reputation for being an adventurer beneath the sheets but I've not heard anything about im bedding women in britches. Ye'll need to be naked, Abigail."

"I...oh yes. I suppose I must." She tore off her pirate clothes and pushed them quickly beneath the bed. "What about you, Raven?"

"Me?" The pirate girl gave a snort. "I'm not in danger of being taken for ransom. Who'd pay to get _me_ back?"

"No I mean, why would you be in here with the captain's w-wench?"

Raven shrugged. "I suppose I could be here to protect ye. Yer meant to be a tavern wench after all, not a pirate who knows how to fight." She stared at Abigail for a moment then gave a great sigh. "Ye don't sound nothing like a tavern wench." She pulled off her waistcoat and tugged her shirt over her head and wriggled out of her breeches as Abigail stared, open-mouthed. "Move over, Abigail. Make room for a second wench."

"Whatever are you doing?" Abigail said, startled to find a naked woman climbing into bed with her.

"We'll both be the captain's wenches," said Raven. "It's completely believable, given Kane's reputation with the ladies."

Abigail had a sudden vision of naked Marcus in bed holding both her and Raven in his strong arms and laughing in delight and she felt a blush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. "Yes, I'm sure it is," she said, trying her best to sound prim which was not an easy task given the circumstances. 

"Let me do all the talking," Raven whispered as sounds of a commotion came to them from outside the door. Had the other pirates boarded already? Despite the impending danger, Raven still found time to bury her face in the pillows and breathe in deeply. "It smells of im," she said, her eyes closing in rapture as if she had just inhaled opium rather than the scent of a pirate captain. She grinned at Abigail. "I never thought I'd find meself naked in Kane's bed. I wonder what e'll do when Jaha's crew have left and e finds us in is bed together." 

Abigail reined in her imagination sharply. She would not venture within a million miles of _that_ particular thought. 

After what felt like hours, the door finally creaked open and an enormous man came into the room. His face was tattooed and scarred and he wore a heavy jacket with chains sewn onto the shoulder, obviously an accessory designed to make him look fearsome, as if he needed any such decoration. 

His face broke into a wide grin when he caught sight of the two women.

"Well, what have we here?" he said. "Is this the welcome party? Don't worry, girls. I'll satisfy ye both." 

"We've been satisfied quite enough for one day, thank ye, Darlin," said Raven with a cheeky grin.

The man frowned. "What are ye doing on board Kane's ship? I know e's fond of is whores but I ain't never heard of im bringing them along on a voyage before."

"We're stowaways," Raven said. "We robbed a man and we hid on Kane's ship to get away. We knew e'd be too much of a gentleman to throw us overboard when e found us."

The man frowned as if he was having difficulty processing this information. He came over to them and pulled at the bedcovers. Abigail couldn't help a little cry and she hugged the covers tightly to her.

"Yer friend's a bit shy for a whore," the man said. "Come on, both of ye, out of the bed. I need to make sure you're not hiding anything in there."

With a great sigh, Raven got out of the bed and stood in the middle of the floor naked and proud. The man gave another huge grin and Raven placed her hands on her hips. "Don't be getting any ideas, love."

He shook his head. "Think a lot of yourself, don't ye?" He turned to Abby. "Come on, what are ye waiting for?"

Abby felt as if she was glued to the bed. She tried to force her muscles to move. After all, Raven was managing to stand there as bold as if she was fully dressed. Hesitantly, she eased herself off the bed but managed to wrap the sheet around her as she did so.

The man laughed. "Need a hand, love?" he said and he reached out a huge grubby paw and took hold of the sheet.

"No!" Abigail screamed. "Take your hands off me, pirate."

The man looked shocked. "Who are ye calling pirate, whore?" His eyes opened wide as if something had just occurred to him. "Yer no whore, are ye?" When Abigail didn't answer, he made to grab the sheet again.

"I'm Lady Abigail Griffin," she shrieked before she could stop herself.

The man's jaw dropped open. "Yer a lady? Then what...oh I get it."

He strolled over to the cabin door and yanked it open. "Captain," he shouted. "Ye'll want to have a look at this, Sir."

Abigail cast a look at Raven that was both apologetic and despairing. Why had she said that? And what would happen now?

She glanced back at the door as another man came into the room. This new man was tall and dark-skinned with a scrap of beard clinging to his chin as if he had started to shave and then changed his mind. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her and Raven, the other girl still unashamedly naked. "What have we here, Quint?" His voice was soft and well-modulated and although outwardly he looked far less threatening than Quint, there was something about him that made Abigail shiver.

"Tell me captain yer name," Quint said to her.

"I'm Lady Abigail Griffin," she said, her voice trembling. "Wife to..."

"Sir Jacob Griffin," the captain finished for her. "The richest plantation owner in the Caribbean. I remember his father well." He looked her up and down slowly. "So, I assume you were kidnapped by this motley crew."

Abigail nodded mutely.

The captain looked about the cabin with scorn. "Well, I think I can guarantee you better living quarters than these when I take you aboard _my_ ship. Allow me to introduce myself. Thelonius Jaha at your service, my lady."

"Y-your ship?"

The man laughed showing strong white teeth. "My dear Lady Abigail, I have come aboard this excuse for a ship in order to relieve Marcus Kane of his valuables. And you, my lady are surely his most precious possession."

Strangely, the part of that sentence that annoyed Abigail the most was the slur on Kane's ship. She understood now just how much it meant to him and in a few short days it had come to seem like home to her. She didn't want to leave her new home. She didn't want to leave...him. 

The man turned his attention to Raven. "And who are you?" he enquired pleasantly. 

"I'm er daughter," Raven said.

Jaha raised his eyebrows. "Indeed? Permit me to say that you don't sound like the daughter of a lady." His gaze raked her naked body insolently. "Nor do you behave like a young lady."

"She's my ward," Abigail put in quickly. She had not the faintest idea why Raven would make such a ridiculous claim but she intended to corroborate her story until she could find out. "She is newly come to me."

"Indeed," the pirate said again. "Then permit me to say that you have your work cut out for you, Lady Abigail." He sighed. "You'll need to get dressed. I'll turn my back to give you some privacy." He turned and frowned at his companion. "You too, Quint."

As soon as the pirates' backs were turned, Abigail grabbed what she now thought of as _her_ breeches and shirt and hurriedly dressed, motioning for Raven to do the same. Once they were both dressed, she said stiffly, "you can turn around now."

The two men turned and Jaha frowned. "Where are your actual clothes?" he asked. 

"I will wear these while I am aboard ship," she said haughtily. "I will keep my own clothes for the day I am reunited with my husband."

Jaha nodded. "As you will. Collect your own clothes then and we will leave."

Abigail went to the chest where she had left her garments and gathered them into her arms. She paused in the act. What was to be done about Raven's clothes? She stood up and fixed a severe expression onto her face.

"I am afraid my ward dispensed with her own clothes overboard," she said primly. "She informed me that after wearing men's clothing, she did not intend to dress in women's garments ever again." She shook her head. "Just what Sir Jacob will say when he sees her, I can't imagine." She shook her head. "As you have pointed out, Captain, I have my work cut out."

Jaha nodded impatiently. "Then if you are both ready, ladies, we will go." He turned to Quint. "Check the rest of the room for valuables while I speak with Kane."

Out on deck, Abigail sought out Kane and then she saw him, standing with arms folded and a grim expression on his face. His eyes widened as he saw her and he looked as if he was about to step forward. 

"Kane," called out Jaha in ringing tones. "As you see, I am taking these ladies to superior accommodation. I am sorry to deprive you of their company but I am sure they'll be more comfortable with me." 

Kane looked stricken as well he might. She did not know how much her ransom was but she knew the loss of it would hit him hard.

"I'm sorry, Abigail," he said. "I cannot risk the lives of me men to keep ye here but I promise ye, ye'll be as safe with Jaha as ye would with me."

"Very nicely put," said Jaha. "Might I ask what the arrangements for the ransom money were?"

Marcus sighed. "We were taking er to the Port of Spain. One of me lads was to arrange for the handover there. Go to the tavern near the docks, the King's head and ask for Finn. E'll tell ye what to do to get yer money."

"Very well," said Jaha. "Come along, ladies."

Abigail frowned. Hadn't the young man been called Murphy? And hadn't the island of Tobago been their destination? Unless she was very much mistaken, Port of Spain was on the neighbouring island of Trinidad.  What was Kane playing at?

She took Raven's arm. "Don't be afraid, Dear," she said in a carrying voice. "I'm sure we'll be just as safe with one pirate as with another."

Kane's brow creased in bewilderment then Abigail saw Raven wink at him and his expression cleared. "Good-bye, ladies," he said. 

 

As promised, their accommodation on Jaha's ship was a great deal more comfortable. The ship itself was much larger with many more men on board than on Marcus Kane's brigantine and the cabin where Jaha eventually left Abigail and Raven alone was as sumptuous as any drawing room on land.

Raven seemed not at all fazed by what had happened as she looked admiringly about her. "She's a beauty, no doubt about it," she said. "A man o' war. Not as fast as Kane's ship, mind."

"Then why didn't Kane just outrun her?" Abigail wanted to know. She took a seat on an elaborately embroidered armchair.  

Raven shook her head. "Did ye see the cannons as we came aboard? Even from a distance, Jaha could blow the Arkadia out of the water. No, Kane did the only thing e could have done, given the circumstances."

"And what about you, Raven?" Abigail asked. "Why did you lie and say you were my daughter? Did you think they would hurt you otherwise?"

Raven laughed. "No, I wasn't afraid for meself, Abigail. But I thought it might make Kane feel better if I was with ye, to look after ye like."

"Make Kane feel better?" Abigail was confused. "What difference would it make to him whether you were with me or not?"

Raven came to kneel on the floor by her feet and smiled up at her. "Abigail, do ye not see it?" 

"See what?" Abigail said testily. 

"I saw ye looking at the stars together," Raven said softly. "I never saw Kane look at a woman like that before. And I've seen im with a lot of women. E laughs, e flirts and with Callie, ye can see e really cares for er but what I saw tonight..."

"What...what did you see?" Abigail whispered. 

"Yer special to im," Raven said. There was a sadness in her voice and Abigail reached out a hand to her. "You love him, don't you, Raven?"

Raven sighed. "Aye, but I want im to be happy and when I saw ye together tonight...well let's just say, I knew ye belonged together."

"Belonged together?" Abigail was scandalised. "Raven, in case you had forgotten, I am a married woman and Kane is...he's a..."

"A man who loves ye," Raven finished for her. 

Abigail laughed in spite of herself. "He doesn't love me, silly girl. You're seeing romance where there is none. And you should forget about Marcus and find a nice man of your own, someone more suited to you in age. You're a beautiful young girl and it's such a shame to waste your life among pirates." She thought for a moment. "Maybe when all this is over, I could do something for you, find you a good position somewhere. In fact, I might just be in the market for a companion. Would you like that, Raven?"

Raven gave a slow smile. "Sit and embroider with ye, do ye mean? And make polite talk with ye fancy friends? I thank ye, Abigail but me life is at sea now."

"But, Raven," Abigail said sadly. "It won't end well. It never does. You and Kane, all of the crew of the Arkadia will end your lives swinging from the end of a rope." As she spoke her heart contracted with pain at the thought of Kane's death. She pushed the image away from her. 

"What did Kane mean by telling Jaha to head for Port of Spain," she said, remembering her confusion at the conversation between the pirate captains. "I most clearly recall him telling Murphy to wait for us on Tobago."

Raven grinned. "I don't know exactly what tricks e's planning but I know the Arkadia can reach Tobago well before this beast can get to Port of Spain. And Finn at the King's Head, e just happens to be an old friend of ours." She took Abigail's hand and squeezed it. "E's coming for us, Abigail. I know e is."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments are gratefully received and read!


	7. Chapter 7

"Captain? Sir?"

Marcus was aware that Sinclair was speaking to him but he seemed unable to take his eyes from the sight of Jaha's ship sailing towards the horizon. A band of pain squeezed his heart as he realised that Abigail was gone and he might never see her again. He dug his nails into his hands. It was ridiculous to feel like this about a woman he had known for such a short time. He'd had hangovers that had lasted longer, for God's sake! And he would have had to say goodbye to her at some point, when he returned her to her husband.

"Sir?"

Marcus turned to his first mate. "Yes?" he said more sharply than he had intended.

"Do ye wish to alter course, Captain?" Sinclair sounded apologetic as if he knew what was going through his captain's mind.

Marcus thought for a moment. "We're headed for the east coast of Tobago, are we not?"

"Aye, Sir."

Marcus nodded. "Maintain present course then. I'm going to me cabin. Join me there as soon as ye can."

He marched away and went into his cabin where he slammed the door behind him. He looked around the room wondering how it could look so empty and cheerless without her presence. Maybe some rum would help. He poured himself a large mugful and swallowed it down, heedless of how it burned his throat and brought stinging tears to his eyes. 

He was halfway through his second mug when there was a knock on his cabin door.

"Come in," he called hoarsely.

The door opened and Sinclair came in, carrying another bottle. "I thought ye might be wanting this, Captain but I see ye've already started."

"Aye," Marcus said. "I felt in need of a little solace."

Sinclair joined him at the table. "E won't hurt er, ye know."

Marcus paused in the act of drinking. He set down his mug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do ye think it's Lady Abigail's welfare that's preying on me mind?" he said.

"I know it is," said Sinclair. "I've known ye a long time, Marcus. Yer sweet on the lass."

Marcus laughed bitterly. "Very astute of ye, Jacapo. I can't deny, I'd like to have er in me bed but she's a married woman and what I'm trying to put me grey matter to work on is how to keep er safe and get the ransom money at the same time."

"Ye can't cheat er husband," said Sinclair. "If word gets out that pirates don't keep their word about honouring the ransom, the whole system will fall apart."

Marcus nodded. Kidnapping wasn't that common among pirates. It was a risky business. But over the years a sort of tacit agreement had been reached. If your loved one was taken by pirates and you paid the ransom demand, then you got your loved one back. You didn't involve the constable, you didn't try any heroic rescue attempts, you just paid the money and waited for the safe return of the victim. It was civilised, it was tidy and it worked.

"I could cheat Jaha though," he said. 

Sinclair frowned. "Wouldn't ye be putting Lady Abigail at risk though? Not to mention our Raven? I have to say, I've no idea why she went with Jaha."

"She's gone to keep an eye on Abigail for me," said Marcus. "She's a brave girl and we'll get er back, never fear. But Jaha will get is money. E just won't get the whole lot, that's all."

Sinclair pulled the cork from his bottle of rum with his teeth and spat it onto the floor.

Marcus gave him an icy stare then bent to pick it up. "I'm trying to keep me cabin tidy," he said. "Have ye not noticed?"

"Sorry, Captain," said Sinclair. He took a hearty swig of his rum. "So, how much did ye ask for er?"

"Me letter to Sir Jacob states 350 silver dollars," Marcus said. 

Sinclair gave a low whistle. "That's a lot of silver."

"Aye," said Marcus. "But e's the richest plantation owner in the Caribbean. E can afford it ten times over. So I'm thinking Jaha will be more than happy when e gets 250 silver dollars for er."

Sinclair nodded sagely. "We split the money without im even knowing. I like it. But I'm still confused, Captain. Ye sent Jaha to Port of Spain yet we're headed for Tobago."

"How long till we reach Tobago?" said Marcus.

Sinclair pursed his lips. "If the wind stays in our favour, we could be there in six days."

Marcus nodded then frowned to himself at the memory of Abigail's face when he'd told her they'd be at sea for a month. It had been cruel of him but he hadn't been able to resist teasing her. He'd felt she needed taking down a peg or two. He only hoped he would get the chance to tell her how sorry he was for everything he'd put her through. 

"So, it will take Jaha, what, ten days to reach Port of Spain?" he asked.

"Aye, maybe more," said Sinclair. "E carries a lot of weight on is ship. What do ye have planned, Captain?"

"We pick up the ransom money, leave straight away and hopefully get to Port of Spain just before Jaha. We'll get to Finn and...well I haven't thought that far ahead yet. But all being well, we'll get the 250 dollars to Jaha and e'll leave the women with Finn. Then its just a matter of getting Abigail back to er husband."

"Who'll be in Tobago wondering where the hell she is," Sinclair reminded him. "E'll think e's been cheated."

Marcus grimaced. "There's not a lot I can do about that. But what's e going to do?"

"Will e wait, do ye think?" Sinclair looked dubious.

Aye. That was the big question. Marcus tried to put himself in Sir Jacob's shoes. How long would _he_ wait for Abigail to be returned to him? He knew the answer to that. He would be going out of his mind with fear for her and with the pain of missing her but he wouldn't leave without her. And the negotiations involved in kidnap and ransom could be delicate and take time. "E'll wait for er." he said confidently.

 

Marcus watched as the island of Tobago grew from a dot in the horizon to a recognisable land mass. He tried to remember if he'd ever felt such trepidation going ashore in the past. Normally, he'd be looking forward to seeing Callie, well doing a lot more than seeing her if he was honest. Whores and tavern girls were all very well to pass away the time on shore but there was nothing quite like the familiarity of coming back to the bed of a long time lover, someone who knew every inch of his body, someone who knew just how he liked to be touched and where, and someone who, when they'd had their fill of each other's bodies, could keep him entertained with her fierce intellect and ready wit. He sighed. Now he just couldn't summon up any enthusiasm for sex with Callie, no matter how adept she was. He was like a man who'd spent his life drinking wine who'd finally caught the aroma of the finest rum and had to taste it for himself or forever resign himself to a life of temperance.

"We've done well getting here so fast, Sir." Sinclair's voice from beside him brought him back to the moment.

"Aye," he agreed. "Five days. Poseidon imself must be on our side." He turned to his first mate. "Is Bryan ready?"

"Aye," said Sinclair. "E looks quite the gentleman. Quite fit to play the part of your...what was is name again?"

"Cadogan," said Marcus. "William Cadogan." 

"And was this Cadogan a real person?"

Marcus nodded grimly. "Aye," he said. "I rented rooms from im many years ago." He closed his eyes as the familiar pain washed over him. 

"And is e alive still?" Sinclair asked him. 

"If e was, I'd make it me life's mission to hunt im down and kill im," said Marcus, anger turning his voice to steel. "As it is, e died in a fire. E'd been drinking and e managed to burn the house down and imself in it."

"The same house ye'd taken rooms in?" Sinclair sounded genuinely interested and for a moment, Marcus considered telling him everything that had happened in the years they'd lost touch with each other, but he stopped himself. The only way he'd managed to deal with his feelings all these years was to keep them inside and console himself with a constant supply of rum and warm bodies.

"Aye," he said shortly. "But I wasn't there that night."

"Lucky for ye then," Sinclair said. 

Marcus turned away so that Sinclair wouldn't see the desolation in his eyes. Luckily a distraction appeared in the shape of Bryan, cleanly shaved and dressed in a sober grey suit. Marcus nodded in approval. "Ye look fine, lad. Every inch the respectable lawyer. Now tell me again what ye're to do."

Bryan sighed in the manner of one who had been thoroughly schooled and tested and was being tested yet again. "I'm to go to Indra's tavern," he said. "And I'm to tell Indra that me name is William Cadogan and I'm there on behalf of Sir Jacob Griffin."

"Good lad," said Marcus. 

"Do ye think Sir Jacob will have given the money to Indra?" Sinclair asked, frowning.

"That's what I told im to do in the letter," said Marcus. "Take a room at Indra's and give er the money asking er to put it in er strongbox and give it to is lawyer, Cadogan when e arrives."

He clapped Bryan on the shoulder. "Don't worry, lad. Sir Jacob wants is wife back. E won't do anything foolish."

"And if Indra asks do I want to see Sir Jacob?" the young man asked.

"Then ye just tell er that e doesn't want to be bothered with business right now. Besides, the reason I chose Indra is she's the soul of discretion where er customers are concerned and she knows it's not good business to ask too many questions. Ye'll be fine and Sinclair and me will be just outside. We'll get the silver, come back to the Arkadia and be in Port o Spain by tomorrow."

 

Marcus frowned as Bryan came back out of Indra's. "E's been too quick," he whispered to Sinclair. They were standing just out of sight in a grove of calabash trees. 

Bryan hurried over to them and as he drew closer, Marcus could see the consternation on his face. 

"E hasn't been," the young man said.

"Fuck," breathed Sinclair, but Marcus shook his head. "We made good time getting here," he said. "There's a good chance e's still at sea."

"So what are we to do?" 

"We wait," said Marcus. What else can we do?" He thought for a moment. "Sinclair, ye go back to the ship, tell the lads we'll be here another day or two but there's to be no shore leave. We might need to leave in a hurry and I don't have the time to spend combing the taverns for me crew. Then come and find us. We'll be at Callie's."

 

"So yer ere," said Marcus as he caught sight of Murphy in Callie's reception room, his arm about a pretty wench.

"Did ye think I'd cheated ye?" drawled Murphy, a look of studied boredom on his face. He liked to give the impression that he cared about nothing but Marcus knew better.

"Not at all," he replied smoothly. "The last time ye tried to rob me, I threatened to tan yer hide. Ye do it again and I think ye know I'd do far worse. Anyway, how long have ye been here?"

"Since the night before last," Murphy answered. "I was lucky enough to catch the captain of a cutter who was happy to bring me here on is way to Trinidad."

"And the message for Sir Jacob?"

"Delivered," answered Murphy smartly. "E weren't best pleased I were told."

"Only yer here and e's not," Marcus pointed out.

Murphy shrugged. "E obviously weren't as lucky catching a ship as I was."

Marcus sighed. "Yes. Hopefully, e'll be here by the morning."

 

"Well, pirate," said Callie when they were alone in her apartments. She wound her arms about his neck and dropped a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I won't deny it feels good to have ye here again. It's been too long and I've missed ye in me bed." She ran one hand through his hair, combing it with her fingers and scraping her nails against his scalp in a way that usually had him groaning. And although he could feel himself stiffening as she pressed her ample breasts against him, it felt like merely an automatic reaction, much as he might shiver if he were cold. 

Gently, he disentangled himself from her embrace. "I can't, sweetheart," he told her. "Not right now anyway."

Callie pouted but she didn't seem offended. She moved away from him to the sideboard where a tray stood with a decanter of rum and two glasses. She poured them both a drink and then sat down on a threadbare but elegant sofa. She patted the seat next to her. "Come and tell me all about it, pirate. Is it the pox ye have?"

He joined her and took the drink gratefully. "Far worse," he said.

She frowned. "Well there's nothing wrong with yer cock, Marcus. I felt it pressing up against me, proud as ever."

He smiled sadly. "Me problem's further up, love." And he pressed one hand to his heart.

Callie opened her eyes wide. "Marcus Kane, you don't mean to say yer in love? Ye've always told me ye'd no stomach for it."

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, wondering if she'd thought he might one day come to feel about _her_ in that way.

To his relief, Callie burst out laughing. "What do ye have to be sorry for, ye great fool? I'm happy for ye, though I admit I am sorry to part with ye cock. If I'd known our last encounter was to be the very last, I'd have made more of a fuss of im."

Marcus chuckled. "As I recall, ye gave im the time of is life as usual. And I'm not saying we can't lie together again. It's just that right now, if I bedded ye, I'd be thinking of _her_ and I can't do that to ye."

"I wouldn't mind," Callie said, smirking. "But are ye telling me, ye won't mind cheating on er in the future?"

Marcus shook his head. "It wouldn't be cheating," he said sadly. "The lady in question is an acquaintance, love, not me wench." And he told her the whole story.

 

When he'd finished, he drained the rest of his rum and held out his glass for a refill.

Callie shook her head. "Rum isn't going to fix what's wrong with ye, love." She held out her arms to him. "Let me at least give ye some comfort."

Marcus sighed and leaned his head onto her shoulder as she stroked the hair from his brow. From this angle, he had a rather fetching view down her cleavage and for a moment, he was tempted to unlace her bodice and set her beautiful breasts free. But then the thought of Abigail in Raven's shirt came into his mind, her breasts free of her corsets and he knew that making love to Callie would only make him feel worse.

When he awoke, he was lying with his head in Callie's lap and she was looking fondly down at him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes blearily.

"I'm sorry," he said, embarrassed. "I must have been more exhausted than I thought. I've not slept too well these past nights."

"Aye, ye were tossing and turning in yer sleep," Callie said. "Ye said er name a few times and another name too, that I've heard ye say in yer sleep before but never asked ye about. Who's Aurora?"

Marcus flinched at the mention of her name, but Callie was his best friend. And maybe it was time he spoke about her.

"Aurora was me wife," he told her.

"Was?"

"Aye," he said, feeling a sob rising in his throat. "She died...in a fire. Along with..." He shook his head as scalding tears poured down his cheeks. 

Callie pulled him into her arms as he gave way to the pain and the grief that he'd kept under control for so long and he shuddered as the dam broke and he cried as he had never allowed himself to cry before. 

Callie didn't speak, just allowed him to weep in her arms until there were no more tears left to cry.

"I'm sorry," he said finally. He gave a shaky sigh. "Marcus Junior would have been twenty-four now and little Aurora would have been seventeen." He smiled in spite of himself. "She was a fearless little thing, ye know. She'd fight anyone." He looked off into space for a moment. "They never found the kids' bodies and for a while I let meself believe they'd escaped. But I never heard anything and in the end I just had to face it. The fire took them. It took them and it didn't leave anything behind."

"Oh, Marcus," Callie said, wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Is this why ye guard yer heart so closely?"

He nodded and cleared his throat. "Aye. I never wanted to go through pain like that again."

Callie shook her head smiling. "Ye let yer guard down for this Abigail though. She must be something special."

"Aye, she is," he said softly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

"Sir, the lads are getting restless," Sinclair said. "They've been stuck on board for three days now and they're thinking it's unreasonable that ye won't let them go ashore."

Marcus sighed. "Let them ashore then. There's no reason they should suffer for my stupidity."

"Marcus, don't say that," said Callie, reaching out across the table and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. She smiled up at Sinclair. "Will ye have some breakfast with us, Jacapo?"

Sinclair pulled out a chair. "Thank ye, Callie. Ye've better food here than on the Arcadia."

Marcus pulled out a bag of coins from his pocket and tossed them to Sinclair. "There. That's for supplies."

Sinclair helped himself to a slice of beef and some bread. "How long do ye plan to stay here, Captain?"

"The Arcadia can stay here for as long as it takes," said Marcus. "As for me, I'm going to seek out passage to Port of Spain on another ship. I need ye to look out for Sir Jacob. As soon as ye get the money, ye need to follow me."

Sinclair frowned. "What are ye planning to do, Marcus?"

Marcus pushed aside his cup of chocolate. He'd decided to stay off the rum for a while in the hopes that he'd think more clearly without it, but it was damn hard. 

"I'm going to see Jaha and tell im the truth," he said. 

Callie gasped. "Marcus, why?" she said. "E'll kill ye for cheating im."

Marcus shrugged. "Maybe. But I'd sooner e killed me than hurt Abigail and Raven."

"There has to be another way," said Sinclair, frowning.

"Well, I was thinking to take a room at the King's Head," said Marcus. "And then just keep an eye on things, like. But Jaha's seen me and e'd be bound to recognise me."

"Not if ye were in disguise," Callie said.

Marcus laughed. "And how would I do that?"

"Well ye could shave off yer beard for a start. Yer a different man without it."

"She's right," said Sinclair. "I sailed with ye for four years then ye went off to live yer life on land and when I next saw ye, ye'd grown yer beard and I didn't recognise ye at all."

Callie clapped her hands together. "And I have just the costume for ye in me dressing-up box."

 

Marcus stared at himself in the mirror. The face looking back at him was older than when he'd last seen it, sterner, more careworn. He rubbed his hand across his jawline and over his cheeks, feeling the scars and remembering how he'd come by each one. It was funny, but when he was able to hide behind his beard, he felt as if, despite the tragedies he'd faced, he appeared to be a lighthearted sort of man, the type of man who never let anything get him down. Or perhaps that had merely been the effect of the rum. Now, as he gazed at himself, clean-shaven and sober, he could see the sadness etched into his skin. The man in the mirror was thin-lipped and granite hard. Callie was right. He _was_ a different man. 

"Didn't I tell ye, pirate?" she said, coming up behind him and sliding her arms about his waist. "If I hadn't seen ye without ye beard before, I never would have known ye."

"What do ye think?" he asked her. "I've a less pleasant appearance. I can see that."

"I don't agree," she said. "Yer just as attractive to me, only in a different way."

He smiled down at her. If only he could put aside his feelings for Abigail and give Callie what she wanted. But it would have to wait. His desire for Abigail was like a fever racing through his body and he would just have to let the sickness run its course. 

"A different way?"

"Aye," she said softly. "Ye could be so cruel to me looking like that. Ye could tie me to the bedpost and ye could torture me and never once smile to let me know it was just a game."

He swallowed hard as he felt his cock stiffen inside his breeches. "I'll bear it in mind, wench," he growled. He cleared his throat. "Ye said something about a costume?"

 

Marcus' mouth dropped open. "Ye want me to dress as a priest?" he said, eyeing the black cassock Callie was holding up.

"Why not?" she asked, her cheeks dimpling. "I think ye'd make a fine priest, _Father_ Marcus Kane."

Shaking his head, he started to shed his clothes, trying to ignore the appreciative glances Callie was throwing in his direction.

When he was undressed, he allowed her to help him into the unfamiliar clothes. "It feels like wearing a dress," he complained. "And why all these buttons? And why is this in yer dressing-up box?"

Callie smirked at him. "We had a gentleman who used to visit us regular. I don't know if e was really a priest but e liked to put this on and get the girls to kneel at is feet and tell im all their sins." She laughed. "We spent many a quiet night thinking up sins to tell the good Father."

Marcus raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure you did," he said. Then a thought occurred to him and he looked down at the cassock in horror.

"It's been washed," said Callie quickly, reading his mind. "Now take a look in the mirror and tell me you don't make a fine man of the cloth."

He turned to face himself and took a step back in surprise. The black floor-length garment made him look taller and slimmer than he was. His chest and arms were well-developed from hauling ropes but the dark loose-fitting cloth hid his physique from view. He was unrecognisable almost to himself. 

As he turned this way and that, Callie knelt at his feet. "Forgive me, Father, for I'm having indecent thoughts." She peeped up at him through her lashes mischievously.

He couldn't help but laugh. "I promise ye, wench. When this is all over, I'll come back here and make ye pay yer penance."

"You, not ye," she corrected him, getting to her feet.  "Ye need to stop talking like a pirate. And much as I want ye to take me spiritual welfare in hand, I do hope ye can work things out with this Abigail. I mean, there's been no sight of er husband, has there? Maybe e doesn't want er back."

Marcus shook his head. "Even if e...he has no love for his wife, he'd surely pay for er...her return for the sake of his reputation."

"What if e..." Callie broke off as there was a knock at the drawing room door. 

"Mr Sinclair," announced the maid.

"I just came to tell ye...By God, Marcus!" Sinclair stopped and stared at his captain in astonishment. 

Marcus ignored this. "Came to tell me what, Sinclair? Why are you back so soon? Is it Sir Jacob?"

Sinclair shook his head. "Still no sign. I came to tell ye there's a clipper in port. I spoke to the captain and e'll gladly take ye to Port of Spain. Ye must leave tonight though."

"I'll come with you now," Marcus said. He took Callie's hands in his. "Thank you for putting up with me these last three days."

"Yer welcome, pirate," she said and then she smirked. "I shouldn't call ye pirate anymore. Ye don't look like one and ye don't even sound like one."

He smiled back at her. "It feels strange," he said. "I'm having to think before I speak but hopefully it will get easier."

"What name will ye go by?" she asked him. "Ye can hardly call yerself Father Kane."

"I'll call me..myself Father Blake," he said. He frowned to himself. Why had that name come into his head? He didn't know anyone called Blake. Then he remembered. The young man who Abigail's daughter had eloped with, his name was Blake, Bellamy Blake if he remembered correctly. 

"What are ye smiling at, Marcus?" Callie asked him. "Ye looked as if ye had a private joke with yerself."

Marcus shook his head. How badly had Abigail affected him that everything he did seemed connected with her? "It's nothing," he said. 

 

"My name is Father Blake," he said to Finn and he held his breath waiting for Finn to start laughing and ask him why on earth he was dressed as a priest. 

"Father," said Finn, and he inclined his head slightly in a mark of respect. "Is it a room ye'll be wanting or just some refreshment?"

"I'll be needing a room," said Marcus. "I can't say for how long at present. I'd like a room with a view of the harbour, if that's possible."

Finn nodded again. "This way, Father," he said leading the way through the back of the inn and up a narrow, winding staircase. 

Marcus waited until they were standing in one of the inn's bedrooms, a small but comfortable looking room with a steeply pitched ceiling and a tiny casement window looking out onto the cobbles of the harbour. 

"Finn, do you not recognise me?" he said, wondering if perhaps the young man was simply playing along until they were alone. 

But Finn merely frowned. "Should I know ye, Father?" he said.

Marcus shook his head. He had been having dealings of one sort or another with Finn Collins or his late father for many years. Was it possible that people looked at Marcus Kane and saw only the beard? Still, this boded well for any meetings with Jaha. 

"I'm Marcus Kane," he said softly, as if the walls could overhear him. 

Finn's eyes opened as wide as they would go. "Marcus," he said in a loud whisper. "But why...?"

"Do you know Thelonius Jaha?" asked Marcus.

"I've never met im in person," Finn answered. "But I know of im. Is father was a slave on a big plantation and Thelonius was a child working as a slave in the house. Then is father saved the life of one of the owner's children and the owner said e would give im his freedom."

"But he asked that his son be set free instead of him," said Marcus. "It's what any man would do for his son." He swallowed back the bitterness that rose in his throat. "Has he come here yet?"

Finn shook his head. "E hasn't. Should I be expecting im?"

"We'd better sit down," said Marcus. "I've quite a tale to tell you."

 

"So what will ye do?" asked Finn when Marcus had finished his story. 

"I'm just going to keep an eye on things for the moment," Marcus said. "You must tell him when he asks about the ransom money that it hasn't arrived yet but that you've handled these matters for me before and it often takes time. Keep him waiting, but the moment he grows sick of waiting, come and tell me."

"And then what will ye do?"

Marcus sighed. "What _can_ I do? I'll have to throw myself upon Jaha's mercy, tell him that I intended to cheat him. He'll kill me, I'm sure of that but if he has no use for Lady Abigail and Raven, I'm hoping he'll let them go."

"E'd better," said Finn fiercely. "If e hurts a hair on Raven's head..."

In spite of the situation, Marcus smiled. He knew very well that Finn was infatuated with Raven, as did the rest of the crew, in fact everyone but Raven herself could see that the poor boy was smitten. 

"If he should happen to bring them here," he said, "don't forget that you have never met Raven."

"I'll remember," promised Finn. "And now, Father Blake, would you like some refreshment?"

 

The only other customer in the inn was a middle-aged man who'd drunk far too much rum considering it was only just past noon. Marcus took a seat a little way from him and watched as a young serving wench came out of the kitchen and began to make her way across to Marcus. As she passed the drunkard he reached for her but she swiftly side-stepped with a skill born of much practice. 

"Come and sit on me lap," the man crooned, reaching for her again.

Marcus watched, amused, as the young girl rounded on the customer, hands on her hips in indignation. "Ye touch me, ye old drunkard and I'll knock yer head off yer shoulders."

Something about her stance and her fierce expression awoke a memory in Marcus. A memory of a little girl putting her older brother firmly in his place when he had dared to tease her by pulling her hair.

He'd been so proud of little Aurora's spirit. Her mother had attempted to make the child more biddable but to no avail. Marcus would never have presumed to interfere in the way his wife raised their children, even though at times she could be a little too free with her slaps but he'd staunchly refused to use physical discipline against them himself. He'd remembered only too clearly how afraid he'd been of his father's beatings and how he'd ended up hating him. 

"Yer too soft with them," his wife had complained. But he'd noticed how little Aurora wouldn't so much as flinch when her mother slapped her and yet all he needed to do was raise his voice and her eyes would fill with tears that would break his heart. 

Finn came out just then. He shook his head, smiling at the young girl and made his way across to Marcus. "Father," he said, "Would ye like some cold meats and ale, and maybe a little bread and cheese?"

Marcus couldn't tear his gaze from the serving wench. He felt as if his chest was being constrained by an iron band. She was so like his little girl. He could easily imagine that if his children had lived, then little Aurora would look just like her.

Finn followed the direction of his gaze and he grinned. "That's Octavia," he said. "When the customers get a little rowdy, she's the one that will grab them and throw them out. She's a little wildcat."

Octavia not Aurora. Marcus felt the band around his chest loosen and he took a deep breath. It must have been talking about his children to Callie. It had opened old wounds and now he was seeing ghosts.

Finn did a double take and laughed. "She could be your daughter, Father."

"What?" Marcus spoke more harshly than he'd intended and Finn took a step back. But just what the hell did the boy mean?

"I'm...I'm sorry," said Finn. "I only meant that your names are the same."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?" he said more softly now.

"Your surnames," clarified Finn. "Her name is Octavia Blake."

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a longed for reunion.

The dream was the same as always. A burning building. The cries of his wife and children. And Marcus, pushing his way through the smoke and flames, desperate to save them. Even though his conscious mind knew that he had been away that night on some godforsaken business that had seemed important at the time, his subconscious always tried to make things right, always tried to put him there where he should have been, protecting his family. And again, as always, he was beaten back by the ferocity  of the flames, unable to save the people he loved. If only he could just...

He was jolted awake by the sound of voices from outside and he leaped out of bed and flew to the window. Was it Jaha? Or better still, was it Sinclair with the ransom money? Had Sir Jacob arrived in Tobago within minutes of Marcus leaving?

 His breath caught in his throat at the familiar and feared sight of navy and white uniforms. He pinched his nostrils shut and forced himself to breathe normally. His Majesty's navy had no reason to think a pirate was lodging at the inn and it was over twenty years since he had deserted. No-one would recognise him now. Still he quickly pulled on his priests's cassock and peered at himself in the looking glass that hung on the wall as if to reassure himself that Captain Marcus Kane was not staring back at him. He took out the Bible that Callie had thoughtfully furnished him with and he sat down in an armchair and pretended to read. 

All too soon, footsteps sounded on the stairs and someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," Marcus called, in a voice that sounded more confident than he himself felt. 

The door opened and to his relief, it was Finn who was standing there. He shut the door behind him and smiled reassuringly. 

"I thought ye might have seen the sailors and been concerned," he said. "They're not here about the kidnapping. There's been a shipwreck and the Navy have been on a rescue mission."

Marcus frowned. "A shipwreck?" A sudden thought struck him. Was this why Sir Jacob had been delayed? "Do you know the details? Where was the ship travelling from and to?" 

"They say it was headed for England," said Finn and a million hopes and fears died in Marcus' heart. "Would ye prefer me to get Octavia to bring ye some food up here?" Finn said and Marcus shook his head.

"No, I'll come downstairs. Jaha could arrive at any moment and he's bound to think the worst when he sees the Navy's here. I need to be there, make sure things don't get out of hand."

 

There were four sailors in the tavern, none of them high-ranking officers and none of them old enough to have encountered a young Marcus Kane. Marcus felt the tension leave his body and he settled himself in a quiet corner with his Bible and waited for Octavia to bring his food. As he waited, pretending to study the text in front of him, a young sailor got up from his seat and approached hesitantly. Marcus looked up, fixing a smile on his face. "Good morning, my son."

"Good...good morning, Father." The young man was clenching and unclenching his fists and his whole body seemed rigid with nerves like a highly strung pedigree hound.

Marcus laid his Bible to one side. "Is there something I can do for you, my son?" he asked kindly. He gestured to a chair. "Please, have a seat."

The boy, for at closer inspection, he could be no more than eighteen, sat down and leaned towards Marcus in a conspiratorial fashion. "Would you...would you hear my confession?" he said in a whisper.

"Yes of course," said Marcus. "Would you prefer to go somewhere more private?"

"No, here is just fine," the boy said. "But don't you need your stole?" He gestured towards Marcus' shoulders.

"No, no," Marcus reassured him, hoping that was right. "God hears your words, my son, no matter what your confessor is wearing."

The boy nodded. "My name is Jasper," he said. "We...we have just been to a remote island a days sail from here. We saw smoke coming from a fire and our captain knew the island to be uninhabited. When we arrived, we found the survivors of a ship which had been sailing to England before it was wrecked in a storm. Though not...not everyone survived."

Marcus nodded. It was the remnant winds of the storm that had allowed The Arkadia to make such good time to Tobago. "That must have been distressing for you," he said gently. He had seen for himself the human remains that could wash ashore after a wreck and it was something that could turn the stomach of a grown man, never mind a sensitive boy.

Jasper nodded gratefully. "It...it was," he said. "But that's not why I need to speak to you, Father. I have a fiance, Maya. I love her very much but it's been a long time since I've seen her and..." The boy blushed and Marcus guessed what was on his mind.

"Have you lain with another?" he asked.

Jasper flushed an even deeper shade of red. "No! I would never do that to Maya and yet I have...I have had thoughts, Father."

Marcus smiled. "If you have had thoughts, my son, and not acted upon them, then no sin has been committed."

Jasper furrowed his brow. "But aren't sinful thoughts a sin?"

Marcus cleared his throat. "Well yes of course and I will absolve you from them. I merely meant to say that you have redeemed yourself by not acting upon those thoughts."

 Jasper smiled shyly. "I couldn't have acted upon them anyway," he said. "The young lady is newly married, married by the captain of their ship, no less. There were other women among the survivors and they were weeping hysterically when we arrived. But this young lady...she was so strong and resourceful that I couldn't help but be impressed by her character, and her beauty of course." He blushed again. 

At his words, Marcus felt something leap in his chest. Could it be mere coincidence? "The young lady, does she have a name?"

Jasper nodded. "Her name is Clarke. Mrs Clarke Blake. Please Father, can you help me? I've had some dreadful thoughts."

"Of course," said Marcus. "I absolve you of your sins, my son."

"Is that all?" Jasper asked, frowning. "Aren't you going to give me penance?"

"No," Marcus said. "You are sorry for your sins and that's the main thing. So, the survivors, where are they now?"

"Most of the survivors are to be taken back to Nassau to await another passage to England," said the young man. "Mr and Mrs Blake were quite adamant that they not be taken back however." He lowered his voice. "We think it likely that they have eloped and fear retribution should they return home."

"I think that is quite likely," Marcus agreed. "So where have you taken them?"

Jasper shrugged. "Well at this moment they're still aboard our ship. All that they had was lost at sea so they won't be able to board another ship for England without first obtaining some money. We're here for the day to replenish our supplies but when we set sail this evening, I don't know what will befall the young couple."

Marcus frowned. He had never met the young Mrs Blake but somehow he felt responsible for her welfare. Maybe if he did her a good turn, it would go someway to cancelling out the harm he had done to her mother. "Wait there a moment," he said. He got up from his seat and walked through into the back of the tavern. He found Finn in the kitchen supervising young Octavia with what he assumed was his breakfast.

"May I have a word in private?" he asked.

Octavia looked up as he spoke and again he felt that disturbing familiarity and his dream came back to him with a terrible clarity. He swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as Finn led the way into a small parlour. 

"What is it, Father?" Finn asked.

Marcus placed his hands together in an unconscious gesture of prayer. "We have done each other many a good turn over the years, have we not?"

Finn nodded. "Aye, even as a lad, I remember ye doing business with me father and ye always had a coin in yer pocket for me."

Marcus smiled at the memory. Robbed of the chance to spoil his own children, he could never resist treating the children he came across on his travels. The sight of their faces as they turned over a shiny silver coin in their hands could not ease his pain but it gave him a momentary pleasure. 

"Then I have a favour to ask of you, Finn," he said. "On board the naval ship are a Mr and Mrs Blake, a young couple recently wed."

Finn raised his eyebrows. "More Blakes," he said. 

Marcus shrugged. "Yes, a coincidence, I know. They were on board the ship that was wrecked and they have lost everything. I would like to help them get to England only right now I don't have enough money to secure their passage and in the meantime, they have nowhere to stay."

Finn nodded. "Of course. I have a little room in the attic. It's not much but it's clean and there's a comfortable bed."

Marcus clapped one hand on the younger man's shoulder. "God bless you, Finn," he said. He had no idea how he was going to help the young couple but at least they'd have lodgings for now.

As he turned to leave the parlour, there was a soft knock at the door. Finn glanced at Marcus then walked over to the door and threw it open. Standing there, looking as if she was about to faint, was Octavia. 

"Octavia!" Finn exclaimed. "Are you alright? You look like death!"

The young girl shook her head. "The kitchen...it's just so hot and I need to sit down for a moment." She gave Finn a feeble attempt at a glare. "I'll make the time up or ye can take it out me wages."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Finn. "If yer unwell, I don't want ye in the kitchen. Ye can sit here till ye feel better or do ye need to take to yer bed?"

Octavia seemed to sway on her feet. Beads of sweat stood out quite clearly on her forehead and she was trembling. 

Marcus saw what was about to happen and strode over to her, reaching her just before she fell. He scooped the unconscious girl into his arms. "Where does she sleep?" he asked Finn.

Finn led the way up the stairs to the attic which had been divided into two rooms. He pushed open one door and Marcus made his way over to the little brass bed on the corner and gently laid Octavia down. He brushed her hair away from where it was sticking to her forehead. The poor child. He hoped it wasn't anything serious. "Ought we to call someone?" he asked. "I'm sure she has a fever."

Finn shook his head. "She has no family. She came to work here three years ago from the Port of Spain orphanage." He gave a small smile. "I suppose I'm the closest she has to family."

"Poor kid," Marcus said. He sighed. "Well, I need to get back downstairs to keep an eye out for Jaha. The sooner these sailors leave the better. And I need to tell young Jasper he can bring the Blakes here."

"I'll come with ye," said Finn. "I'll come up here every hour to check on Octavia but I don't like to leave me other girl, Gina on her own too long." He grinned at Marcus. "She spends more time flirting than working and I'm sure she has only a passing acquaintance with arithmetic. If I leave er in charge too long, I'll have no inn left."

 

"Thank you so much," Jasper said when Marcus told him of his arrangements for the Blakes. "We'll be on our way now so I'll send then here to you. Who shall I tell them to ask for?"

"Just tell them to ask for Finn Collins," said Marcus. The more anonymous he could remain, the better.

When they had gone, Marcus sat back down with his Bible and a cold breakfast that Finn had brought over for him. The girl Gina was clearing away the tables and she shot him a look which could only be described as lascivious. Marcus cleared his throat nervously. Damn! He was even beginning to think like a priest. The old Marcus would have had her in the cellar over a barrel by now. 

He had been sitting there for a little over half an hour when the door to the inn opened. Marcus peered over the top of his Bible, curious to see just what Clarke Blake looked like. Would she be as beautiful as her mother?

He sat back quickly as Thelonius Jaha and two other men walked into the room. "Good morning to you," said Jaha pleasantly to Gina who was now behind the bar. 

"Good morning, Sirs," she said. "What can I get for ye?" 

"We'll have two mugs of ale," said Jaha, "and a large bottle of tonic water."

When the woman put the tonic water onto the counter, Jaha turned and gave it to one of his men. "Take this back quickly," he said. Then he noticed Marcus. "Wait one moment, Lincoln," he said.

He strolled over to where Marcus was sitting. "Father," he said, inclining his head respectfully.

"How can I help you, my son?" asked Marcus, his heart thumping so violently that he was sure Jaha must be able to hear it. 

"I apologise for the interruption, Father," said Jaha. "One of my crew has been taken ill. We have a passenger with some medical knowledge who feels it may be malaria and so my man, Lincoln is about to take quinine back to the ship while I deal with some business here." He frowned. "Unfortunately, I fear that it may be too late and the poor man may benefit more from spiritual intervention than medical. Might I prevail upon you to go back with Lincoln and offer your services?"

Conflicting thoughts raced through Marcus' brain. He needed to stay here to see what happened when Finn told the pirate captain that the ransom money had not yet been delivered but the thought that Abigail was on Jaha's ship overrode every other thought. "Yes, certainly," he said, picking up his Bible. "I would be only too happy to help."

 

The man, Lincoln was silent on the way back to Jaha's ship for which Marcus was grateful. Would he get to see Abigail and Raven or would they be locked away in a cabin? Lincoln made his way up the gangplank and Marcus followed him, his gaze darting everywhere, desperate to catch even a glimpse. Lincoln led the way down into the hold and opened a door. "Here's the quinine," he said to whoever was inside. "And the captain told me to bring a priest."

"Hopefully if the quinine works, we won't be needing a priest," said a familiar voice. "Well, what are you waiting for? Bring him in if you must but shut that door, it's cold enough in here without letting in the sea air. Why you don't have a designated room for medical matters is beyond me. Instead I must treat this man like an animal, tending to him on the floor amongst ropes and barrels."

In spite of himself, Marcus grinned. Lady Abigail had lost none of her fire and spirit. He came into the room with his head bowed and tried to control the leaping of his heart as he saw her kneeling at the side of the patient, still wearing men's apparel, her sleeves rolled up past the elbow, her hair tied back in a braid. Luckily she spared him no more than a cursory glance and a nod as she held the bottle of tonic water to the sick man's lips. Raven was there also though and she frowned at him for a moment then her eyes opened wide. She appeared to think for a moment then she looked towards Lincoln with an annoyed expression. "What are ye about, letting a man of God stand there like a spare part? Can ye not go and fetch him a chair?"

Lincoln glowered at her but seemed loath to move. Then Abigail rounded upon him. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she said imperiously. "And get some blankets and a pillow for your friend while you're about it. There are too many people in this room right now and at least one of you should find something useful to do."

"I'll come with you and help you to carry everything," Raven offered and then Marcus and Abigail were alone. 

Abigail got to her feet and pushed her hair from her brow with the back of her hand tiredly. "My father was a doctor," she said, without looking at Marcus. "He used to let me help him and I saw many cases of malaria. Quinine always helped as long as it was given in good time. I just pray we are soon enough." She looked at him for the first time. "I suppose praying is your domain though isn't it?" She gave a weary smile. "I'm Abigail Griffin and I am a prisoner aboard this ship. Have you been taken hostage too or are you here of your own free will?"

"Abigail," he said, his voice rusty as though he had not spoken for days. "Do you not know me?"

She frowned. "No, I don't think we've..." She broke off as she looked into his eyes then she clapped a hand over her mouth as if afraid she would scream. She glanced at the man on the floor, his mouth was mouthing words but he was obviously delirious. "Marcus," she whispered. "Is it really you?" And then just like that, she was in his arms, her face buried into the crook of his neck. 

He was in the act of bringing up his arms to enfold her, his heart singing in spite of the great danger, when she pulled away. 

"I'm sorry," she said blushing furiously. "I was just so pleased to see a familiar face." 

"It's fine," he said, trying to hide his hurt from her. "I'm just so glad you're alright." He ran his hands along her arms, desperate to touch her. "You _are_ alright, aren't you? They haven't hurt you? Because if they have..."

"Marcus," she murmured. "Keep your voice down. I'm perfectly fine. But what are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that? And why are you speaking differently? Are you here to rescue me? Do you have the ransom?"

He shook his head. "Believe me, Abigail if I could walk off this ship with you right now, I would do," he said softly. "But I'm here alone. The rest of the crew are in Tobago."

She furrowed her brow. "But why? What's going on, Marcus? Tell me quickly before Lincoln returns."

"We waited in Tobago for your husband to come with the money but he never arrived," Marcus said, his heart breaking for her. "But you know, there's probably a good reason for the delay and he could have got there by now."

She shook her head. "If he's found out that I helped Clarke to elope, then he'll be furious with me. Maybe this is his way of punishing me." 

"Er...about Clarke," he said. And he told her what had happened. 

"And you arranged for them to stay at the inn?" she said, her face alight with excitement. "So...so if I manage to get off this ship, I can see my daughter again?" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Well yes," said Marcus tentatively. "But I'm not sure just yet how we're going to achieve that if the ransom money doesn't come through. The only thing I can think of doing is telling Jaha the truth. He'll kill me most likely but he has nothing to gain by killing you and Raven. In fact he knows he'd have the entire navy after him if he did. So don't look so worried, Abigail. You'll be fine."

"I wasn't thinking about myself, you fool," she muttered, slapping him in the chest. "Don't you dare do something that gets you killed, Marcus Kane. Promise me!"

"Abigail, there may be no other way," he said helplessly. 

"No!" she said, slapping him again.

He caught her hand. "Abigail, are you saying that you..." He broke off as Lincoln and Raven came back into the room. 

Abigail turned quickly and went back to her patient. "His shivering has eased slightly," she said with only the slightest quiver in her voice. "I hope that the quinine will be able to save him and I hope that you will pray for him, Father."

"I certainly will do," said Marcus, seating himself in the chair that Lincoln had brought in. 

"Father, while yer here," said Raven. "Do ye think ye could hear me confession?" 

"I...I don't see why not," said Marcus. 

"Actually, Raven," said Abigail. "I have a confession I'd like to make myself. Would you mind if I spoke to the Father first?"

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," said Lincoln, frowning. "The priest is not here to hear yer confessions."

"Oh really?" said Abigail, rounding on him. "And do you not think that God is listening right now? Do you think he will help me to heal your friend if I have sin in my heart? What do you think, Father?"

"I think God would rather you confessed your sins, my child," said Marcus, wondering if there was a special corner of hell reserved for men who dressed up as priests and pretended to hear confessions just so they could have some time alone with the women they loved. Because what he felt for Abigail _was_ love, he knew that now. And he knew that if he had to die for her, he would do so without hesitation. 

Lincoln gave a great sigh. "Just don't tell Jaha," he said. He took Raven by the arm. "We'll wait outside," he said.

When they were alone, Abigail knelt at his feet and grasped his hands. "Marcus, I know where we can get the money," she whispered excitedly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying it so far. As always comments are very much appreciated.


	10. Chapter 10

"I know where we can get the money," Abigail said in an excited whisper. "We are in Port of Spain, are we not?"

"We are," said Marcus. He was stroking the back of her hand with his thumb absent-mindedly and she swallowed hard and forced herself to concentrate. There was no point thinking of him in that way. They were from different worlds.

"I have a relation nearby," she said. "A cousin, though we lived together for so long as children, we are more like sisters. She lives but an hour's ride from here."

"And she'll provide the money?" Marcus looked sceptical.

Abigail laughed softly. "Diana married a very rich man. A very rich, very _old_ man. When he died, she inherited everything and now she has so much money that she couldn't spend it all if she lived to be a hundred." She looked around the room. In one corner, there was a little table with a drawer and she went over and began to rummage through it. Finally her fingers closed around a pencil and she pulled it out triumphantly. "It's not very sharp but it will do. Now we just need paper and I can write her a note."

Marcus opened his Bible. "Here. There's a blank page at the front."

She took the book from him eagerly and began to write then she looked up at him. "Just how much ransom did you ask for me?"

Marcus looked down at the floor. "I asked for three hundred and fifty silver dollars," he said.

"Well that seems fair," she said, wondering why he looked so uncomfortable. "Jacob can well afford it."

He met her gaze. "I was planning to give Jaha _two_ hundred and fifty," he said. "And to keep a hundred for myself."

She nodded. "Very sensible. Your men are expecting something. They won't be very happy if they come away from this venture with nothing to show for it." She wrote quickly then handed the book back to him. 

His eyes scanned what she had written and then he looked questioningly at her. "Abby?"

"It's what I was called as a child," she told him, feeling the colour rise into her cheeks at the sound of her pet name on his lips. "And Jacob...Jacob used to call me Abby when we were courting," she said bitterly. 

"It suits you," Marcus said. "I mean right now, dressed in breeches with your hair braided off your face, you don't look like Lady Abigail Griffin. You look like Abby." He smiled. "I can imagine you being quite the hoyden as a child."

She laughed. "Oh, what I wouldn't have given to have worn breeches as a child. I did used to envy boys so, running around and climbing trees quite unencumbered by petticoats."

"And Diana?" he asked. "Is she like you?"

"Well," Abigail began. "We don't look in the least alike but she is very beautiful." She frowned. Diana would certainly be interested in a man like Marcus. Thank God he was dressed as a priest. Though she couldn't be sure that would stop Diana. When her husband had died, she had declared she would never marry again but her affairs were numerous and not always discreet. Had they been in England, she would have found herself ostracised from polite society but here in the Caribbean, money was more important than manners, and Diana had enough of the former that society politely looked the other way when it came to the latter.

She noticed Marcus was watching her intently. "We...we're very different in character," she said. "We didn't always see eye to eye as young girls and she has a tendency to gossip, which I never liked, but she _is_ generous and I know she'll help us."

There was a knock on the door. "Better finish up," came Lincoln's voice.

Marcus closed his Bible and nodded to her.

"Come in," she called.

When Lincoln and Raven entered the room, they found her kneeling over the sick man again.

"His breathing is easier," she said. "And he is not as hot as he was previously. I think the quinine has begun to work." She nodded impersonally at Marcus. "I do not think your ministrations will be needed after all, Father. This man will live, I am sure. But thank you for hearing my confession. God will surely be on my side now that my sins are forgiven."

Marcus got to his feet.

"What about _my_ confession?" asked Raven, giving Marcus a mischievous look. 

"The good Father has work to do," Abigail reproved her. "He doesn't have time to listen to your childish peccadilloes."

"I'm sorry," Marcus said to Raven. "I do have some urgent business as it happens." He smiled at Lincoln. "I've offered my prayers for your friend. He is now in the hands of the good lady." He bowed his head. "Madam."

"Come with me," said Lincoln grumpily and Marcus followed him out. 

Raven turned to her with arched brows. "So did ye confess?" she asked her. "Everything?"

Abigail felt her cheeks grow warm. "I don't know what you mean," she said, in her best haughty voice.

"Please yerself," said Raven. "All I'm saying is, that if Marcus Kane was a cup of water, ye'd have drained im dry. I see how ye look at each other."

"I've told you," said Abigail. "I'm a married woman."

Raven shrugged. "So did Marcus get the money from Sir Jacob?"

Abigail shook her head. "It appears my husband is as keen to have me back as I am to return to him. In short, he has not paid the ransom."

Raven opened her eyes wide. "So what will happen now?" she said. "Did Kane come with a plan to get us off this ship?"

"No, but he went away with one," said Abigail. "I have sent him to my cousin Lady Diana Sydney with a letter asking for her to pay the money. I will pay her back of course when I have seen my husband."

"Will e give it to ye though?" asked Raven. "I thought ye said e didn't want ye back."

Abigail gave her a pained smile. "If I were to disappear, no-one would know that he hadn't paid the ransom. He could play the part of a grieving husband, all the while congratulating himself on ridding himself of a troublesome wife. But if I were to reappear and if I were to threaten to make it known that he hadn't paid, he would be ruined socially. So what choice does he have? He will have to give me the money to keep me quiet. Besides, three hundred and fifty silver dollars is nothing to him."

Raven put a sympathetic arm about her. "And what will ye do then? Will ye stay with a man who doesn't love ye, when there's one who does?"

Abigail felt a pain rip through her heart so violently it was all she could do not to cry out. "I will stay for as long as seems decent and then I will come back here and I will stay with Diana."

"And then ye could have Kane," Raven said brightly.

Abigail shook her head. "You are so very young, Raven. There is more involved in adult relationships than you seem to think."

"I know ye love each other," Raven persisted. 

"Oh Raven," Abigail cried. "Please don't torment me in this way. How could we be together? Do you expect me to make my life among pirates?"

"Maybe e'd leave the sea behind," said Raven softly. "E did it once before. Sinclair told me that e made a life for imself on land for over ten years then e came back to the sea. E threw in is lot with Sinclair again and they and some others stole the Arkadia according to a plan of Kane's. That's how they voted im Captain."

"And what was he doing on land?" Abigail asked, curious in spite of herself. 

Raven shrugged. "No-one knows save imself," she said. "Sinclair tried to ask im one night and got is head chewed off for is trouble. Then Kane went and got blind drunk so we reckon whatever it was, it was too painful for im to talk about so we left it alone after that."

That made sense. There was something about Marcus Kane that spoke of a deep sorrow, something in his eyes and in the set of his jaw. He tried to hide it behind the smile of a drunken buffoon but she had seen glimpses of it and her heart ached to think of him all alone with his pain, unable to share it with anyone. 

 

Marcus made to walk down the gang-plank but Lincoln stepped in front of him, arms folded across his chest. "I'm not sure I should let ye go," he said. "Maybe ye'd better wait until Jaha comes back."

Marcus frowned. "Your captain asked me as one gentleman to another to give spiritual comfort to your friend in case he should be dying. I have prayed for him and I have cleansed the soul of the lady who is ministering to him. Your friend now appears to be recovering. There is nothing more for me to do here. And excuse me but I have business elsewhere." He tried to move past Lincoln but the pirate barred his way again.

"And what was the lady's confession?" he demanded.

Marcus shook his head. "You know I cannot break the seal of the confessional, my son."

Lincoln threw back his head and laughed. "Do ye expect me to believe that the lady didn't tell ye who she was and what she was doing on a ship full of pirates? Ye'll tell me now, Father or ye'll squeal at the end of Jaha's sword." Marcus gave a loud and deliberate sigh. Experience had told him that the best way to get a lie past someone was to begin with an undeniable truth. He spread his hands open in a gesture of defeat. 

"You're right," he said. And now he injected a note of anger into his voice. "The lady told me that she had been kidnapped and was being held here against her will until her husband pays a ransom for her return. I told her that there is a naval ship in port and that I would go immediately and summon help." He glared at Lincoln. "Luckily for you however, she made me swear on my Bible that I would do no such thing. She is confident that her husband will pay the ransom and she tells me no harm has been done to her during her stay. She is keen to avoid bloodshed, it seems."

Lincoln nodded slowly. "If the navy were to board this ship, the safety of the lady and her daughter could not be guaranteed. If we're all to face the hangman's noose, then we have nothing to lose by slitting their throats."

Marcus closed his eyes against the image. When he opened them again, Lincoln was smiling grimly. "I see the thought pains ye, Father."

"I abhor any sort of bloodshed," said Marcus, his voice tight. "But the thought of anyone harming women..."

"Then you will be about yer business, Father?" said Lincoln.

Marcus held his Bible aloft. "I swear on the Holy Book that I will say nothing of this to another living soul."

Lincoln stepped aside. "Then be on yer way, Father. And thank ye for yer help."

"Don't mention it," muttered Marcus.

 

He entered the inn by the back door and found Finn in the kitchen. "Mar...Father, yer back," Finn exclaimed. "Come upstairs with me."

When they were safely in Marcus' room, Finn grabbed his arm. "Jaha is getting impatient," he whispered. "E questioned me at length as to whether anyone had been with the ransom money. E seems to think that I might have had it already and kept it for meself. We may be friends, Marcus, and I'll help ye any way I can, ye know that, but I'll not die for ye."

"You won't have to," said Marcus, gently removing Finn's hand from his arm. "I'm going to fetch the money now and I'll see that you're rewarded for all the help you've given me. Just one more thing. Can I borrow your horse?"

Finn sighed. "Oh, why not?" he said. 

"Thank you," said Marcus. A thought struck him. "The young couple, did they come here?"

"Aye," said Finn. "I showed them to their room and they're resting."

"And Octavia, is she any better?"

"I was about to check on er when ye arrived," said Finn. "I'll have a quick look now and then I'll saddle me horse for ye."

Marcus followed him out of the room and up the narrow stairs to the attic. 

Octavia lay quite still on her bed and for a heart-stopping moment, Marcus feared she was dead. 

He hurried over to her and to his relief saw that she was still breathing, although her breaths were very shallow. Her face wore a sheen of perspiration and her lips moved in silent delirium.

"Could it be malaria?" he asked Finn.

The younger man shrugged. "I've no idea," he said. "I've been lucky enough not to witness a case before."

"Fetch tonic water," Marcus demanded quickly.

Finn rushed off and Marcus tenderly brushed the girl's damp hair from her brow. He had no idea why she concerned him so. It must be because the poor child had no parents to watch over her. 

Finn came back into the room with a bottle of tonic water and Marcus pulled the girl up into a seated position and held her while Finn put the bottle to her lips. It took some time but eventually they managed to get some of the liquid into her. 

Even in her delirium, Octavia grimaced at the bitter taste. Then her head sank back against Marcus' shoulder. Instinctively he dropped a light kiss on her forehead as he eased her back down onto the bed. A ghost of a smile flitted across the girl's face. "Papa," she whispered.

His heart ached for her. She was obviously reliving happier times. He stood up. "If she is no better within the hour, fetch a doctor," he said. "The cost is of no consequence. I'll pay for it."

 

Back in Glasgow when he was a boy, Marcus had worked for a while as a delivery boy. He had delivered groceries to some of the finest houses in town but he had always gone around to the back of the building, to the servants' entrance. Now, as he looked up at the magnificent residence of Lady Diana Sydney, he felt suddenly like a boy of ten again and he had to remind himself that as a priest, he was perfectly entitled to use the front door as if he was gentry. He squared his shoulders, cleared his throat and took hold of the huge bronze doorknocker.

The man who came to the door was tall and smartly dressed with spotless white gloves. He wore a look of arrogant superiority but when he saw Marcus' cassock, he inclined his head slightly.

"Is Lady Diana at home?" Marcus asked, a sudden fear tightening his chest as he wondered what he would do if she wasn't there. "I'm here on some family business."

To his great relief, the butler opened the door wide and stood aside to let Marcus pass. Marcus clutched his Bible to his chest as he looked around the hallway which was at least twice as big as Callie's drawing room. The butler opened a door to the left and showed Marcus into another room with comfortable-looking chairs. 

"If you wouldn't mind waiting, Father," he said. He bowed his head and left Marcus alone.  

Marcus wandered over to the fireplace where an enormous painting hung on the wall above. The painting showed a rather portly middle-aged man and a younger woman, presumably Lady Diana. She didn't look in the least like Abigail, being fair while Abigail was dark, but she was certainly a handsome woman. She was smiling at the viewer as if she knew a great secret and was dying to tell it and he found himself wondering whether the old man next to her had been enough for her or whether she'd pleasured herself with lovers. 

He was disturbed in his musings by the door opening and the lady herself sweeping in with a great rustle of skirts. 

"Father," she said graciously. "I believe you come on family business. It's not dear Abigail, I hope?" She frowned in concern and he hurried to reassure her.

"Lady Abigail is quite well and unharmed," he said. 

"Well thank God for that," said Lady Diana. She seated herself in a chair near the fireplace and gestured to a chair opposite her. "Please sit down, Father."

As he sat, Lady Diana frowned again. "Unharmed?" she said. "That's an odd choice of words."

Marcus held out his Bible to her. "Open it to the first page," he said. "There's a note from Abigail that should explain everything."

Lady Diana raised her eyebrows. "Abigail?" she repeated. "You are intimately acquainted with my cousin, then?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned her attention to Abigail's letter. As she read, her mouth dropped open and she finally raised her eyes to him. 

"She says she has been taken by pirates!"

Marcus nodded. "Yes, but as I say, she is unharmed. But unfortunately, Sir Jacob has not been forthcoming with the ransom and she fears the pirates will not wait much longer."

"Monstrous!" Lady Diana exclaimed. "If they should harm so much as a hair on Abigail's head..." She looked at him suspiciously. "And how is it that you come to be involved, Father?"

"I-I was called upon to give spiritual aid to a pirate who was ill and Abi...Lady Abigail was ministering to him. We managed a moment alone and she wrote this letter and asked me to bring it to you."

She stared at him for a long moment and Marcus felt his face grow warm. 

"I feel in need of prayer, Father," she said suddenly. "The Lord is My Shepherd would be appropriate, I think. Would you care to lead?"

"I...er...The...The Lord is my shepherd," he began. "He...maketh me down to lie."

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want," said Lady Diana. "You're no more a priest than I am a nun. Who are you? And tell me the truth for if I think for one moment that you are lying to me, I shall call the constable!" 

Marcus sighed. When he had told himself he would be willing to lay down his life for Abigail, he'd had visions of being run through with Jaha's sword, not of dangling from the hangman's rope. But if it would save Abigail's life...

"I'm a pirate," he confessed. "I'm not one of the pirates who is holding her right now but..." He sighed again. "I'd better tell you the whole story."

When he had finished, Lady Diana shook her head. "So, if it wasn't for you, my dear cousin would be perfectly well and safe. And you tell me you have developed romantic feelings for her."

"Yes," he whispered.

She laughed but not unkindly. "A cat may look at a King," she quoted. "You're a handsome man, I'll give you that. But my cousin is married to a very rich man and I think you'll find that money will always win out over a striking pair of eyes and a fine physique." She let her eyes wander over him slowly and Marcus had the notion that if he wished, he could take the Lady Diana right here bent over her chaise-longue. But the thought brought him no pleasure. He hadn't realised he'd been entertaining the hope that he might one day be with Abigail until now, but Lady Diana's words hit home. She was right. What did he have to offer Abigail besides his heart?

"I understand that," he said stiffly. 

Lady Diana stood up. "I will fetch you the money," she said. "You will deliver it to this pirate captain accompanied by two of my men. And then when my cousin is safe, they will take you to the authorities to face the consequences of your crime."

Marcus bowed his head. "As you will, Lady Diana."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever comments are gratefully received and treasured!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, if it's a little short but I needed to end the chapter where I did.

If Marcus Kane had been the type of man to kill a person for being annoying, Lady Diana's groomsman, Carl Emerson would currently be buried six feet underground.

Firstly there was his insistence on referring to Marcus as a 'dirty pirate'. Marcus had been in the company of many gentleman over the years who had been less than fragrant, but Vera Kane had always impressed upon her son that cleanliness was next to Godliness and so he had always tried, in deference to her memory, to be as clean as he could. So although the sea water dried his skin out,  he washed in it anyway and on Callie's advice, used coconut oil to put some of the moisture back in. Secretly of course. He had a feeling his crew would never let him live it down if they caught him moisturising his skin like a woman. 

Secondly, there was Emerson's quite unseemly delight at the prospect of Marcus being hanged and his detailed description of exactly what happened to a man when the rope went tight. Marcus had been to a hanging, he knew quite well what to expect and he really didn't need to hear a blow by blow account of what was in store for him.  

But it was his criticism of Abigail that really made Marcus hate Emerson. It was a good job they'd tied his wrists together or he would have shut his mouth for him permanently. 

"Of course, it's typical of Lady Abigail to get herself kidnapped," Emerson said. "Such a thing would never happen to Lady Diana. Lady Diana always makes sure to have at least one groomsman with her when she goes out riding."

_I bet she does_  thought Marcus, remembering the lascivious look on Diana's face as she had looked him up and down. 

"Yes, I remember when Lady Abigail came to stay with us, a couple of years ago," Emerson said. "I was supposed to be accompanying her out on her ride, Lady Diana was quite insistent that she not go alone. So I went down to the stables only to find Lady Abigail had gone on without me."

"She obviously felt she could dispense with your company," said Marcus. "Charming though it is." He smiled to himself at the thought of Abigail doing just as she pleased and frustrating this repulsive man. 

"It's no surprise that Sir Jacob hasn't paid the ransom if you ask me," said Emerson, although clearly no-one _had_ asked him. "He's probably glad to be rid of her. If she was _my_ wife, I'd give her a taste of the horsewhip for her behaviour."

"Why you jumped up...obnoxious..." Marcus began.

"Alright, Carl. That's enough," said the other man, Vincent Vie. Marcus didn't mind Vie, well in so far as he could manage not to mind a man who was taking him to be hanged. He was a quiet, serious man, in total contrast to his garrulous partner. "We need to go over the arrangements for the payment of the ransom money."

"If I did things _my_ way," said Emerson, "we wouldn't pay the money at all. We could attack this pirate captain, kill him, rescue Lady Abigail and take the money back to Lady Diana."

"You want to attack Jaha?" said Marcus, scornfully. "I hope you're a good swordsman then, because Jaha is one of the best."

"I don't need a sword," said Emerson. He pulled a pistol from under his jacket and grinned. "Reckon this will even the score."

Marcus felt his anger rise up but he forced himself to be calm. "Please," he begged the man. "Please don't do anything to put Lady Abigail's life in jeopardy."

"I don't see that it's up to you..." began Emerson but he was cut short by Vie. "We do whatever Blake tells us to do. Lady Abigail's safety is our only consideration here."

"But how do we know he's not leading us into a trap?" Emerson complained. His face was flushed with resentment at being told what to do by his companion.

"We don't," Vie admitted. "And I don't like it any more than you do, Carl. But Lady Diana told us to go along with this man so if it all goes wrong, we can't say it's our fault. If we do things our own way and Lady Abigail is hurt, who do you think will get the blame?"

Emerson glared at Marcus. "Well just so you know, I'm keeping an eye on you, pirate scum."

Marcus ignored him and addressed Vie directly. "I told Jaha that Finn would be the go-between for the ransom," he said. "Jaha can't see that I've got anything to do with this. He has to believe that the money came from Sir Jacob. If he thinks there's been any sort of trickery or any attempt to deceive him..."

"Of course," Vie said. "Tell us what we need to do."

"Well, I think you should be the one to take the money to Finn," said Marcus. "Emerson and I will wait out of sight in case anything should go wrong which is unlikely."

"You sound very confident," Emerson said.

"It's in no-one's interests for Jaha to hold onto Lady Abigail once he has the money," Marcus said. "And talking of the money, there is something you should know. Lady Abigail has requested the sum of 350 silver dollars but I know that Jaha will be satisfied with 250. The other 100 was for me and my men."

Emerson laughed harshly. "Well, you won't be needing money where you're going, unless you're hoping to bribe the hangman to make sure your neck's broken quickly."

Marcus gritted his teeth. "I know that, but while I've been at the inn, I've incurred expenses. There's my food and lodging to be paid for and..." He hesitated unsure of whether to tell the two men about Clarke Griffin and her new husband. He'd not told Lady Diana about her, figuring it was not his place but then again, he couldn't have Finn being out of pocket. "There's a young couple staying at the inn. They were recently shipwrecked and lost all their money. They're close acquaintances of Lady Abigail so I knew she'd want me to help them. There's another young lady too who may have needed a doctor and I said I'd pay for that too."

"Quite the philanthropist, aren't you?" sneered Emerson.

Vie frowned. "I don't know about just handing over Lady Diana's money." He pursed his lips in thought. "How about we give this Jaha his 250 dollars and give the rest to Lady Abigail. I'm sure she'd be happy to pay for these people if, as you say, they're friends of hers."

"I'm sure she would," said Marcus, nodding. "Yes, give the money to Abigail." 

He was almost knocked from his horse by a cuff to the head from Emerson. "It's _Lady_ Abigail to you, pirate scum. And who's this _young lady_? Some whore you got in the family way no doubt. I hope she's getting rid of it. We don't want any dirty pirate whelps round here."

Marcus felt the rage building up inside him but there was nothing he could do about it. He had killed a few men in his time but only ever from necessity and it had never sat well with him. But he knew he would actually get pleasure from watching Emerson die. God help the man if he could get himself free. 

"There's another matter," he said to Vie. "Lady Abigail was not alone when she was taken. She had a young lady companion with her. The ransom is for them both."

"I see," said Vie. "We're almost at the harbour. Where is this inn?"

"Just through those trees," said Marcus. "You go in and ask for Finn. He'll handle the rest."

 

"They say you shit yourself when you're being hanged," said Emerson conversationally as they sheltered from the late afternoon sun in the shade of a tamarind tree.

Marcus ignored him. All that mattered now was that Vie was at The King's Head and the money was being handed over. As long as Abigail was released, he didn't care what happened to him. It would have been nice to see her one more time though or would that have only made it harder?

"Father!"

Marcus whipped round at the sound of the voice and his stomach plummeted into his boots at the sight of Jaha's pirate comrade, Lincoln. He tried to pull the sleeves of his habit over his wrists so that the man wouldn't see that he was bound. He noticed Emerson's hand twitch and he prayed that the man wouldn't go for his gun. But Lincoln had sharp eyes. 

"Who are ye?" he demanded of Emerson. "And why do ye have the priest tied up?"

Emerson snorted. "He's no more a priest than you are a gentleman. He's a dirty pirate. But you probably know that, don't you?"

"No," said Lincoln. "I'd never met the man before today."

Emerson frowned then his brow cleared. "Oh you're one of Jaha's crew then. Well this is..."

"Emerson!" shouted Marcus. The damn man was going to ruin everything. "Look," he said in desperation. "I _am_ a pirate and this man is taking me to be hanged. Please, I don't want to get you involved in this too. There's no need for us both to hang."

Lincoln laughed. "One man against two of us?" he said. "Let im try."

Emerson almost made it to his pistol before Lincoln's knife struck him square in the forehead, killing him instantly.

"So," Lincoln said, "yer a pirate." He strolled over to Emerson's horse and dragged Emerson off its back, letting him fall to the ground. He pulled out his knife and wiped the blood off on the grass and then turned to Marcus. "What did ye do to im that e hated ye?

"I gave is wife the first proper fucking she'd ever had," said Marcus forcing himself to grin while his heart was hammering so hard he felt as though it would burst out of his chest.  

"And what's yer name?"

"Blake," said Marcus, eyeing the other man warily.

"What's yer first name?" 

"Er...Jacapo." 

"Jacapo Blake," mused Lincoln. "Do yer friends call ye Jack?"

"Sometimes," said Marcus, wondering just where this was going.

Lincoln held up his knife to the light, inspecting it for blood. "They never call ye Marcus Kane, then?" he asked casually.

Marcus felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He opened his mouth to speak but Lincoln held up his hand. "If ye lie to me, I really will have to kill ye," he said.

Marcus gave him a wry smile and shook his head. "How did ye know me?"

"It was yer eyes that gave ye away," said Lincoln. He folded his arms across his chest and regarded Marcus, his head tilted to one side. "I thought I recognised ye," he said. "I told meself I was imagining things. I don't meet a lot of priests, ye see. But I worked at a whorehouse a few years back. The girls were being bothered by some local men and they needed a bit of muscle around the place. The girls didn't exactly enjoy their work. I saw one lass puking er guts up one night after being ridden by a fat old man. But there was this man who came in one night and the girls, they acted like e was their lover. I asked who e was and they told me e was a pirate captain called Marcus Kane. Well I wondered what was so special about im. E was a handsome man so I thought it was just that but then on is way out e gave me a tip and I saw is eyes." Lincoln looked off into space as if he was remembering. "There was something about them. Like e'd seen sadness in is life and e was trying to act like e didn't care. I could see why a girl would fall for a man with eyes like that."

"Thank ye for the compliment," said Marcus. "But what are ye going to do with me, now?"

"Take ye to Jaha of course," said Lincoln.

Marcus sighed. Well at least it would be quicker than being hanged.

 

Jaha was still at the inn with Vie and Finn. "Ah, there you are, Lincoln," he said. "Our business here is almost finished. I have the money and we are just now on our way to complete our side of the bargain." He frowned at the sight of Marcus. "May I ask why you have tied the good Father's hands?"

"E's no priest," said Lincoln. "This is Marcus Kane. E's shaved off is beard but it's im alright."

Jaha stared at Marcus for what seemed like an eternity. "Really?" he said. "It seems we ought to sit down for a moment. We have a lot to discuss."

When they were seated, Jaha said, "So, Kane, what is your excuse for being here? I do hope you weren't planing on cheating me. I take a very dim view of that sort of thing, you know."

Marcus gave him what he hoped was a conciliatory smile. "Now if I was going to cheat ye, I'd have sent ye some place else, wouldn't I?"

"That's a good point," said Jaha. "So why _are_ you here then?"

Marcus thought quickly. "The girl with Lady Abigail," he said. "She's one of me crew. I came to make sure she got off yer ship so I could take er back with me."

"Ahh," said Jaha. He laughed. "I thought she was a strange choice of ward for a lady. Feisty, foul-mouthed, not at all ladylike. I don't suppose you'd part with her, would you? I'd give you a good price."

"She's not for sale," said Marcus politely. 

"Pity," said Jaha. He frowned. "I didn't see your ship."

"I left er at Tobago," Marcus said. "I thought if ye saw the Arkadia in port ye'd think it was some sort of a trap. I came alone. I just need Raven and I'll be off."

"You can accompany me to my ship then," said Jaha. "Gentlemen, shall we...why are you looking at Kane like that, man?"

 This last remark was addressed to Vie who was staring at Marcus.

Marcus gave him a pleading look and Vie nodded his head almost imperceptibly. 

"I...er no reason," said Vie. "I'm just not used to seeing a pirate dressed as a priest, that's all."

"Well then, if we're all ready," said Jaha. He pushed back his chair to stand up.

"Mr Collins," called a female voice.

They turned to see a young blonde woman approaching them. "Would it be possible to get something to eat, do you think?"

Finn smiled at her. "Mrs Blake. I hope yer well rested. I have to go out on business but I shouldn't be long. I can do ye something when I get back if ye don't mind waiting."

"Miss Clarke!" exclaimed Vie. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"I..." Clarke blushed. "I am here with my husband, Mr Bellamy Blake. Why are you here, Vincent? Is Lady Diana here?"

"I am here to...to attend to some business on behalf of her ladyship," the man stammered.

"Her ladyship?" said Jaha. "I thought you were Sir Jacob Griffin's man."

"What do you know of Sir Jacob Griffin?" demanded Clarke, rounding on Jaha.

At first sight, Marcus had not thought Clarke resembled her mother in the slightest but seeing her squaring up to the pirate captain, he could see her mother's spirit in her. 

Jaha looked taken aback. "And what is it to you?" he drawled.

"Sir Jacob is my father," Clarke said.

"Is that so?" said Jaha.

"That's right, Sir," said Vie. "Sir Jacob arrived on the island yesterday and came to borrow the ransom money from Lady Diana. I have no idea why," he added as Jaha frowned. "All I know is I was ordered to bring the money here to Mr Collins."

"Ransom money?" echoed Clarke. "For whom?"

Marcus spoke finally. "For yer mother, Mrs Blake. But don't worry. She is quite unharmed and will be with ye very shortly."

"But this is preposterous!" said Clarke. "You kidnapped my mother?" She looked as if she was about to attack Jaha and Marcus intervened hastily. 

"No, it was me. I snatched er from the street shortly after she'd said goodbye to ye. And then...well it's a long story but as I said, we're off to fetch er back now and she can tell ye all about it."

Clarke glared at him. "And then afterwards you will answer to the King's justice. You'll see to this, Vie?"

"Yes, my lady," the groomsman answered. "I fear he may have committed murder on another of your aunt's men too."

Jaha shrugged his shoulders. "Well, there's no point in expecting me to help you, Kane. I'll look after Raven for you though."

"That won't be necessary," said Finn. "Raven can stay here while she figures out what to do."

Marcus gave a great sigh. It seemed as if everything was resolved. The ransom was paid. Clarke was about to be reunited with her mother. Finn might finally seize his chance with Raven. And he...well he was to be hanged. 

"Clarke, is everything alright?" came a voice. 

A young man came up behind her and put his arm protectively about her waist. There was something disturbingly familiar about him and Marcus felt suddenly faint.

"No, everything is not alright, Bellamy. This man kidnapped my mother." 

Bellamy's gaze followed her pointing finger towards Marcus and then his mouth fell open.

"Father," he said in a hoarse voice.

"Unfortunately not," said Jaha. "The cassock is supposed to be a disguise. He's a pirate called Marcus Kane. Your lovely wife has demanded he face the full wrath of the law and I dare say she always gets what she wants."

Bellamy's expression hardened. "I know his name," he said. "He's my father."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always Comments are much appreciated. Thank you.


	12. Chapter 12

Marcus stared at the young man, hardly able to comprehend what he'd just said. His heart seemed to be squeezed by invisible hands and for a moment, he thought he might be having a heart attack. Your life was supposed to flash before you at the moment of death, wasn't it? Well that was what was happening now. Images rushed past his minds eye making him gasp out loud. 

Images of a small boy with tousled dark hair and a cheeky grin. A memory of holding little Marcus above his head when he was a baby and seeing the little boy's face flush with excitement. He could hear his chuckles as clearly as if it was yesterday. 

"He has a laugh just like his father," Aurora had said. "A great big joyful laugh as if all the happiness of the world is in his heart and he wants to share it with the people he loves."

"And why shouldn't he be happy?" Marcus had said, as his son wriggled in his arms, eager to go off and explore his world. "He's the most loved little boy in the whole world. All I want for him is that he should always be this happy."

He remembered watching his son sleep and tenderly brushing back the curls from his forehead. Aurora had thought it amusing that he liked to watch his children at sleep but it was at these moments that he truly felt that God had given him and his wife two of his most precious angels to care for and keep safe.

Not that Marcus junior was always an angel. He had an inquisitive mind that often got him into trouble and Marcus remembered that more than once he'd had to speak sternly to him. But he'd always taken whatever punishment his father had decided upon with good grace even when that punishment meant his raging energy was confined to his bed for the rest of the day. Marcus remembered one such afternoon. He'd gone to check on his son to make sure he wasn't too upset by his scolding and had found him sitting up in bed writing. 

"I'm writing a sorry letter," little Marcus had said. His father sat down next to him on the bed and took the paper from his hands. _I'm sorry that I was bad, Papa. I will be good now and I won't make you angry again._

Marcus had opened his arms wide and his son had flown into them hugging him tightly, burrowing his face into Marcus' neck, the curls so like his father's tickling Marcus' chin.

Marcus touched his chin now as if he once again held his child in his arms. He tried to rise but his knees seemed to have other ideas. 

"Ye-yer name is Bellamy," he managed to gasp out.

"My given name is Marcus Kane," the young man said. "It was changed by the people who became my new parents when my father didn't trouble himself to come for me." His expression was stern but his eyes were wet with tears. "I thought you must be dead. I wish you _were_ dead. That would be easier than the truth."

Marcus shook his head. The tears flowed down his cheeks and his voice trembled as he spoke. "I thought ye were dead. They wouldn't let me see Aurora's body, said it was too burned. They said there was nothing left of me children, only ashes." He stared beseechingly at Bellamy. "Yer sister...did she?"

Bellamy stared back at him. "Why should you care?"

"Please, son. I'm begging ye. Put me out me misery." His voice broke on a sob. 

"She lives," the young man said curtly. "At least she was alive when I last saw her three years ago."

 "Thank God," said Marcus, his shoulders sagging in relief. "But where were ye? Who took ye in?"

Bellamy sat down at a distance from Marcus. "A couple called Mr and Mrs Blake," he said. "They were older than you and Mama but they'd never had children. They lived just a few hours ride from our house. They said they'd left word with our neighbours and that you would come for us...but you...you never did." He cleared his throat. "We would sit at the window every day watching for you, thinking this will be the day. This will be the day our Papa will come for us. I-I hadn't cried about Mama. I didn't trust myself to. I thought if I started crying, I would never stop and I-I wanted to wait until I was with you until I let myself cry. I had to be strong for my sister. She was my responsibility now and I had to be the adult and take care of her. She cried by the way. She cried every single day."

"They lied to ye," Marcus whispered. "No-one knew that ye were still alive." He stared at his son in bewilderment. "Do ye seriously think I wouldn't have crossed the whole world to find me children if I'd known ye still lived? I loved ye more than I loved me own life." He shook his head, anger beginning to build in him. "They had no children, these Blakes, ye say. So they took _my_ children and raised them as their own. And yer name? Why did they change yer name?"

 "I went out playing in the woods one day," said Bellamy. "I was gone all day. I suppose I just lost track of time. Anyway, Mother, Mrs Blake I mean, she was worried about me and she kept watching from the window. Then when she saw me walking up the path, she said, 'Oh here's Marcus at last.' Oc - Aurora rushed to the window. She thought Mrs Blake was talking about you and nothing could console her when she saw it wasn't."

Marcus didn't think his heart could break any more than it already had, but the thought of his little girl crying for her papa hurt so much it was all he could do not to cry out in pain. "So they changed yer name so ye wouldn't be reminded of me," he said, the words choking the breath from his lungs. 

Bellamy got to his feet. "I can't do this right now," he said. He turned and dashed from the room. 

Marcus stood as if to follow him but Clarke barred his way. "Let me talk to him," she said. "He's had a terrible shock. You go and fetch my mother back here and we'll talk more later."

"Miss Clarke," said Vie. "I thought you wanted me to take Kane to the constable."

Clarke shook her head. "That was before I found out he was my father-in-law. We will wait to see what my mother wants. And I'm Mrs Blake now, Vincent."

 Marcus stared at her. How strange to think that he and Abigail were now related through the marriage of their children. But even if that were not the case, he couldn't imagine Abigail wished him any harm. When she had grasped his hands at their last meeting, he had felt something between them, he was sure of it, like a spark leaping from her hands into his. 

"There is another matter," said Vie. He turned to Marcus. "What happened to Emerson?" he asked. His tone suggested he didn't really care what had happened to his companion.

Marcus hesitated but was saved by Lincoln.

"He tried to kill me," said Lincoln. 

"Well, as it appears he didn't, I assume you killed him first," drawled Jaha.

"I did," said Lincoln. 

"Well then," said Jaha. He smiled at Vie. "It seems your question is answered. Now, were you hoping to take my man to the constable? Because I wouldn't be at all happy about that."

Vie sighed. "No, it was obviously self-defence. I don't think we need to involve anybody else."

Jaha beamed at him. "Good. Shall we leave then? I think we've wasted enough time already on idle chit-chat and while I'm sensing there's a lot more to this situation than meets the eye, there is a naval ship in port and the presence of his majesty's navy always tends to make me a little bilious."

"You don't need me, do you?" said Finn. "With Octavia sick, I need to be here."

"How is she?" asked Marcus. "Did you fetch the doctor?"

Finn shook his head. "She seemed a little better after we gave her the tonic water."

"That's good," said Marcus. "When we come back with Abby, perhaps she could take a look at..." he broke off at the look on Clarke's face. 

"Are you referring to my mother, _Lady_ Abigail Griffin?" Clarke said, each word coated with ice. 

"Er yes, sorry," said Marcus. "Daughter-in-law," he couldn't help adding before making a hasty exit. 

 

 

Marcus paced up and down outside Jaha's ship. How much longer would they be? He seemed to have been waiting for ever. 

"Calm down, man," said Vie. "You're wearing away the ground with your pacing."

Marcus scowled. "If they're not here in two minutes, I'll go aboard and..." He stopped short at the sight of Abigail at the top of the gangplank. 

She was once again dressed in the clothes she had been wearing when he'd snatched her from the street. She looked thinner than when he'd last seen her in that dress and her skin was darker from being exposed to the sun without a parasol. He was overwhelmed by guilt at what he'd put her through, and now that he saw her as she was meant to be, he felt foolish at ever thinking he'd felt something between them. Nevertheless he was seized with a desire to take her in his arms and hug her tightly but of course that was out of the question. He would have to transfer these feelings onto somebody else.

"Raven!" he bellowed. "Get down here now!"

And so it was that the young pirate wench found herself crushed against her captain's chest in a bear hug so fierce, she could scarcely breathe. 

When he finally released her she was pink and flustered but she soon recovered herself.  "Remind me to be your substitute again some time," she whispered to him with a sly look.

He gave her a mock glare then turned his attention to Abigail who had reached the bottom of the gangplank. He bowed. "Lady Abigail," he said. 

"Captain," she replied equally formally. She did not meet his eyes but turned to Vie. 

"Vincent," she said warmly. "How good to see you again. I trust my cousin is well."

"Very well, my lady," Vincent replied. "And your daughter awaits you at a nearby inn." He reached inside his jacket and drew out a bag of coins. "This is the difference between the money you asked for and the money I gave to the pirate. You may need some of it to settle your daughter's lodging costs."

"Splendid," said Abigail. "Shall we proceed there then without further ado?"

 They began walking in the direction of the inn then Abigail gave a little cry. "Oh these wretched shoes are not suited for walking on cobbles." She gave Marcus an arch look. "Captain, may I borrow your arm to lean upon?"

Marcus would have torn the whole limb off for her if she asked him to and he gladly offered his arm, his pulse quickening at the feel of her hand at his wrist. Was he imagining it or did her fingers stroke him ever so slightly? Every sense seemed concentrated into that area where their bodies were joined and he couldn't remember when a woman's touch had moved him so. She paid him no attention but instead conversed with Vie about her cousin while Marcus worked valiantly to keep his breathing under control and appear calm while underneath he was raging with desire for the beautiful woman at his side. 

After what seemed several years of his life, they arrived at the King's Head where Abigail let go of Marcus' arm and rushed inside to be met by Finn.

"Is my daughter here?" she demanded.

Finn bowed his head. "She's upstairs with er husband, my lady. Should I fetch er for ye?"

Abigail appeared to think for a moment. "No, you can show me up shortly. For now, I wonder if you have a private room in which I might speak with Captain Kane?"

"Certainly. If you'll follow me." Finn led the way to the rear parlour where he left them alone. 

"Marcus," Abigail seemed to breathe his name as she came towards him. She lifted her arms as if to embrace him then dropped them back down to her sides as if she thought better of it. "I believe this is yours," she said. And she held out the bag of money to him.

His face flushed. "It's your money," he said. "Or rather, yer cousin's money. I only need enough to pay me debts to Finn."

"Your crew will want their share," she pointed out to him.

"Not my crew anymore," he said. "I'm going back to the Arkadia for one reason only, to see Raven back safely. I have a reason to come back to the land, ye see." He sat down in a chair and motioned for her to do the same then he told her about Bellamy.

As she listened, Abigail's eyes grew wide and when he came to the part about coming home and being told that his family had perished in a fire, she jumped up from her seat and came to kneel at his feet, taking his hands in hers. 

"Oh poor, poor Marcus," she said, her eyes filling with tears to mirror the ones in his own. "I knew there was sadness in you but I never dreamed...My God! I can't imagine how it would feel if I had ever lost Clarke in that way. No wonder you..." She blushed. "I'm sorry. Do go on."

He frowned. No wonder he what? "But they lied to me," he said. He spoke harshly and Abigail flinched. "Me children were alive and being cared for by a childless couple who wanted a family of their own so badly that they let a loving father believe that is children had died in the most horrible way imaginable." He shook his head. "Think of it, Abigail. Imagine thinking yer children had burned to death, terrified, trying to escape, screaming for their parents to come and save them. Imagine carrying that around in yer head for thirteen years." Her words suddenly made sense to him and he added. "Aye, its no wonder I turned to drink and to women willing to let me blot out me heartache with loving words and sweet caresses." He shook his head. "But when the rum wore off and when the women had left me bed and all that was left was the smell of cheap perfume...it was still there. It was still there, Abigail." To his shame he felt a tear coursing down his cheek and he wiped it away ducking his head so that she wouldn't see. 

"Oh, Marcus," she cried and then her arms were about him. She pulled him into a hug and although the pirate captain in him wanted to resist, the heartbroken father won out and he clutched her to him and let the tears flow freely.

He didn't know how long he cried but gradually he grew calm, soothed by the touch of her hands as she stroked his hair. Reluctantly, he drew away and he gave her a tremulous smile. "But I've found me son now," he said. "And God willing, I'll find me daughter too. Bellamy said e hadn't seen er for three years but I'm hoping e knows where she is."

Abigail frowned. "Did something happen to the Blakes?" she said. "Only, do you remember, Marcus? I told you that Bellamy had been brought up by an acquaintance of ours. He was still quite young when they took him in, no more than thirteen years old."

Marcus started. "And my Aurora?"

She shook her head. "No, just Bellamy. I never knew he had a sister." She shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry I can't tell you any more, Marcus. The Greens were acquaintances of ours, not close friends."

"But she is alive," Marcus said. "And as soon as Bellamy is ready to speak to me, I'll find out where she is and..." He breathed deeply as feelings he thought he'd never know again began to course through him, invigorating him, setting him alight with happiness. "I'll hold me little girl in me arms once again." Another tear trickled down his cheek and Abigail lifted her hand and brushed it away with her thumb. 

"So do you think you'll stay here?" she asked him. "Bellamy and Clarke were on their way to England. I assume they will resume their journey at some point. Bellamy was to take up a position at a law firm."

He shrugged. "Of course I want us all to be together," he said. "But it all depends on Aurora. Bellamy has Clarke but Aurora will need er father."

"Marcus," she said gently. "Aurora may have a husband, you know."

Marcus drew himself up and his eyes flashed dangerously. "She's far too young to even think of such things and if I find out any man has laid is hands on _my_ little girl..."

Abigail laughed. "I love this side of you, Marcus. You know, when I saw how you were with the young people in your crew, I thought you'd be a wonderful father and you are." She bit her lip. "I know you may have left by the time I return here in a few weeks, but I would love nothing more than to see you reunited with your daughter and reconciled with your son."

"Yer returning here?" Marcus felt his heart lift with hope.

She nodded. "It is obvious that my husband does not want me back and I cannot go back to the life I had with him. My only source of joy in that house was Clarke and before you snatched me from the street I had reconciled myself to a life of emptiness. But then you came along." She grinned at him, her eyes dancing in mischief. "What an adventure, Marcus!"

He stared at her. "Ye..yer glad I kidnapped ye?"

She took his hands in hers. "I can't remember when I last felt so alive. You saved me from drying up and crumbling away into dust. I just ask myself now, what's next? Where shall I go?"

"So yer leaving Jacob?" His heart was beating so violently he felt sure she must be able to hear it.

"Yes," she said. "I will make him give me the 500 silver dollars that I owe my cousin and then I will come back here to stay with her until I think of what to do next."

"500 dollars?" he echoed. "But it was 350."

Her lips quirked at one corner in a delicious manner that made him want to seize her mouth with his. "Jacob doesn't know that."

"Abigail!" he said, feigning shock. "Ye'd cheat yer own husband?" He stared at her in awe and admiration. God damn it! The woman should have been a pirate.

"He can afford it," she said. "And I shall need money to support myself. I was thinking that I may follow Clarke to England. I left as a young girl and I miss it sometimes."

"I feel the same way about Scotland," he said. "The air is so fresh and sweet with rain and when the sun shines, it doesn't beat down upon ye like the Caribbean sun but warms ye softly like a gentle lover."

Abigail's mouth fell open at his words in the most inviting way and he felt suddenly emboldened. "Abigail," he said.

"Call me Abby," she whispered. Her eyes had darkened and her chest was rising and falling as though she had been running.

Carefully, he took her face between his hands and when she didn't resist, he touched his lips to hers, hesitantly at first as if still unsure but then she uttered a soft cry and her lips parted. His self-control and his desire to be gentle with her deserted him and he crushed her to him, his tongue clashing with hers as she kissed him back with wanton abandonment. He thrust his fingers into her hair as if to anchor himself to her and she responded by wrapping her arms about him and tilting her head back allowing him to deepen the kiss. A small whimper escaped her and he answered with a growl.

He did not know how long they kissed for only that he was afraid to stop. Afraid that if he stopped she would change her mind, feel ashamed, angry even. He wanted to remember how this felt for the rest of his life. And he wanted her to remember just how it felt to be kissed by Marcus Kane. He slid one hand down her back so that it came to rest just below her waist and he pulled her against him so that he could feel the softness of her breasts yielding to the hardness of his chest. Her body felt so tiny next to his and along with the passion he felt for her, he was conscious of a strong desire to protect her, to make sure she never came to any harm. Abigail was not just a woman to him, she was _his_ woman. And even if he never saw her again after today, he knew she would never cease to be in his thoughts and in his heart.

The door opened and he stepped back guiltily. But it was only Finn, grinning as he realised what he had interrupted.

"I'm sorry, Marcus. Mrs Blake is asking where Lady Abigail is."

"We shall come now," said Abigail, running her hands over her hair where Marcus' fingers had created havoc. "Let's go and find our children, Marcus." And she smiled at him without the least bit of embarrassment. 

As Finn led the way up the stairs, Abigail grasped Marcus' hand and gave it a brief squeeze. Hope surged through him. Could they have a future together? If he found Aurora and she could be persuaded to come to England, could they be a family of sorts? He would find work, it didn't matter what it was. But then how could he possibly hope to keep Abigail in the manner to which she was accustomed? 

"Once ye've seen Mrs Blake, I was wondering if ye would have a look at me serving wench, Lady Abigail," said Finn. "She's been sick with the malaria we think and Marcus says ye have some medical knowledge."

"Certainly," said Abigail. "In fact, why don't I take a look now?"

"Well if yer sure, Lady Abigail." They had reached the top of the stairs and Finn opened the door to Octavia's room.

Abigail crossed swiftly to the bed and took one of Octavia's hands in hers and laid the other on the girl's forehead. There was something so motherly about her pose that Marcus' throat constricted. If they _could_ somehow be a family, then maybe one day she would look at his own dear Aurora like this. 

Octavia stirred and opened her eyes and Abigail smiled. 

"How are you feeling, my dear?"

"Thirsty," Octavia croaked.

Marcus poured a glass of water from jug on the dresser and took it over to her. He handed it to Abigail then put one arm around Octavia's shoulders and helped her to sit up.

She was sipping from the glass that Abigail held to her lips when there was a tap on the door and without waiting for an answer, Clarke came in.

"Clarke!" cried Abigail. She motioned for Marcus to take over holding the glass then she got up and rushed across the room to envelop her daughter in a hug. 

"We've been waiting ages for you" said Clarke. "And Bellamy is ready to speak to Marcus now."

Octavia choked on her water and Marcus hastily put down the glass and patted her on the back. 

"Did you say Bellamy?" she said. "Are you...are you talking about Bellamy Blake?" 

Clarke stared at her suspiciously. "I am. And what is Bellamy Blake to you?"

Marcus knew what Octavia was going to say before she said the words. He stared at her. Why had he not put two and two together? Her name was Octavia Blake. Which meant she was Bellamy Blake's sister. Which meant...

"Aurora," he gasped out just as she opened her mouth to reply.

"He's my...what did you call me?" She stared at Marcus, her gaze moving slowly, painfully across his face as he waited for her to recognise him then her eyes opened wide.

He nodded. "It's me, baby. It's Papa."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the kiss was enough to whet everyone's appetite. Smut to follow in the next chapter I promise! As always, I love to read your comments.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know! I promised there would be smut. But there was so much to get out of the way first and this chapter was beginning to look like War and Peace! I didn't want to tag Kane and Abby's first sex scene onto the end like an afterthought. The whole story has been so slow burn that I wanted the sex scene to have the same build-up so it deserves a chapter pretty much to itself. Next time I swear! Thank you for your patience.

Watching the girl in the bed, Abigail was reminded of how when Clarke was a little girl and she'd been thwarted in some way, she would stick out her lower lip and then her entire face would scrunch in upon itself before she let out an ear-piercing wail.

The girl stared at Marcus, her lip quivering, then her face seemed to collapse as with a loud cry she launched herself at him. He caught her easily in his arms and held her while she sobbed, kissing her hair and murmuring  words of comfort to her. "It's all right, sweetheart. I've got you now. I've got you. Papa's here."

"Oh my God," said Clarke. "It's Octavia, Bellamy's sister."

Abigail put an arm about her daughter. "I can hardly believe it," she said in a whisper. "First his son, now his daughter, here in this inn. It's almost as if all this was meant to be."

Clarke laughed. "Don't be fanciful mother, it's simply a coincidence." She pulled away from Abigail's embrace. "Excuse me, I have to let Bellamy know."

She left the room and Abigail sat down in a hard-backed chair in the corner. She felt as if she was intruding upon a very private moment and yet she couldn't look away. She had thought Captain Marcus Kane with his beard and his pirate garb had been attractive in a rakish kind of way, but clean shaven in the garb of a priest (where _had_ he got that cassock from) he was handsome in a completely different way and it was giving her _feelings_ , feelings which she had not experienced in many years. And seeing him with his daughter awakened other feelings too. Feelings of tenderness and...she hesitated to call it love. Calling it love was dangerous and brought up all sorts of questions about the future. After all, one couldn't simply walk away from a man one loved.

And that kiss! She had never been kissed like that before. Marcus' passion had set off a reaction inside her that was still going on. Every part of her was tingling, longing for him to touch her and she knew that whatever happened from here on, if she didn't have at least one night with him, she would forever be unfulfilled. She bit her lip as the thought of his hands warming her bare skin intensified the tingling between her thighs.

Her fantasy was interrupted as the door burst open.

"O!" Bellamy rushed over to the bed. 

Octavia lifted her tear-streaked face from her father's chest and reached out one hand to her brother, still keeping a firm hold of Marcus with the other, as if she was afraid he might suddenly disappear. She pulled Bellamy into a fierce hug and for a moment the three of them were locked in an embrace made awkward by the gap between father and son. Then carefully, Marcus lifted his free arm and placed his hand on Bellamy's shoulder. He didn't squeeze it or exert any pressure, just left it there. Bellamy stiffened a little but didn't pull away.

Abigail realised she was holding her breath as she waited for something to happen. Then slowly, Bellamy lifted his own arm and put it around his father's shoulder. There was a choked sob from someone, she wasn't sure from who, but it was definitely male and then the two dark curly heads drew together as father and son finally had the reunion they should have had all along.

"Shall we leave them to it?" she whispered to Clarke who had come to sit at her feet. 

"No," Clarke whispered back. "I want to watch this. It's beautiful." She turned to face her mother, her eyes shining with tears. "Bellamy has wanted to see his sister so much but when he went back to see her, the family had moved or something. I want to hear what happened."

Abigail nodded. She too wanted to hear Octavia's story.

Octavia was the first to pull away. "How did you find me?" she said. Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Abigail and Clarke. "And who are you?"

Clarke smiled, nervously it seemed. It was obvious that gaining Octavia's approval was very important to her. "I'm Clarke. I'm Bellamy's wife," she said.

Octavia's mouth dropped open. "Wife? Oh! Well it's good to meet you, Clarke." She turned her gaze on Abby. "And I'm guessing you're my father's wife." 

"I'm...I'm not..." Abby stuttered.

"Lady Abigail is Clarke's mother," said Bellamy quickly and Abigail smiled gratefully at him. The thought of being Marcus' wife had quite literally robbed her of speech and suddenly the people in the room, even Octavia whom she'd just met, seemed like family to her. 

"Oh," said Octavia. "Do you have a wife then?" she asked her father. "Or are you just married to the church?"

Abigail had to stifle a grin at the look on Marcus' face. He looked down at himself as if he had forgotten he was wearing the costume of a priest. 

"I'm not..I'm not _actually_..."

"He's a pirate," said Bellamy.

Marcus frowned at Bellamy but Octavia gave a cry of delight.

"You see, Bell? I told you." She turned to Marcus, her eyes shining. "When you didn't come for us, Bell said you must be dead but I knew you weren't. I told him something must have happened to you, that you must have been kidnapped by pirates or something."

Marcus shook his head. "I didn't know you were alive. After the fire..."

Bellamy put his hand on his father's arm. "Octavia doesn't like to talk about the fire," he said. 

"No, it's all right," said Octavia. "Now that Papa's here, I don't mind." She sat up straight then put a hand to her head and winced.

"What is it?" Marcus said. He looked over at Abigail in a panic. "Abby, is she all right?"

"No, I'm fine," said Octavia. "I just felt a little dizzy. It's clearing now."

"You need to eat," said Marcus. His voice was gentle but firm and Abigail felt a little thrill at how quickly he had fallen back into the role of parent. She had a feeling that everything was going to work out just fine for him now.

He got to his feet. "I'll go and fetch you something."

Octavia shook her head. "I'll come downstairs. I don't want to eat in my bed and besides, I'd like to change."

Marcus looked dubious. "Are you sure you're well enough to leave your bed?"

"Why don't you all go downstairs and arrange lunch for everyone," suggested Abigail. "While you're gone, I'll check Octavia over." 

When everyone had left the room, Abigail crossed to the bed and placed her hand on Octavia's forehead. Thankfully, it was cool to the touch. She smiled at the girl. "Your father's right, you need to eat. And of course you've had an enormous shock."

Octavia gave a little laugh. "My father..." She looked up at Abby, her eyes shining with fresh tears. "You have no idea how sweet those words sound."

Abby felt tears come into her own eyes. "I'm so glad he's found you both," she said. "I didn't even know of your existence until today but I could see he was carrying a great deal of pain around with him. I could see the sadness in his eyes and..." She trailed off at the look on Octavia's face. "What is it?"

"Bellamy said you were Clarke's mother," said Octavia, getting up from the bed and going over to a small wooden wardrobe in the corner of the room. She opened the door and reached inside, taking out a fresh skirt and blouse then she turned to Abigail. "But you're more than that to my father, aren't you?"

Abigail's cheeks grew warm. She thought of denying it but the girl's directness deserved an honest answer.

"I have not known him long but I confess I have developed a fondness for him," she said. "He's an easy man to lo...to like."

Octavia gazed at her for a long moment without speaking, then she stripped off the blouse she had been wearing. "Where did you met him?"

Abigail laughed. "I think I'll let him tell you that himself."

 

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the sound of raucous laughter met their ears. 

"Finn Collins, I do believe yer blushing," a familiar voice said.

"Raven, leave the poor lad alone," came Marcus' voice.

Abigail put her arm about Octavia's waist and they followed the laughter to the room in which Marcus had kissed her. They were met by the sight of such blissful domesticity that Abigail's heart seemed to contract within her. Oh, how she wanted to be a part of this newly reunited family. She couldn't help but compare the scene to her drawing room at home, she sitting alone with her embroidery while Jacob busied himself with his correspondence, paying his wife as much heed as if she were a caged bird. 

The room held two comfortable looking armchairs, one either side of a fireplace, though why anyone in the Caribbean ever wanted a fire lit was beyond Abigail. In one chair sat Bellamy with Clarke ensconced on his lap and in the other sat Marcus. He too had changed his clothes and was now in the more familiar outfit of breeches, boots, white frilled shirt and leather waistcoat. God, he was a handsome man! Why did he seem to grow more handsome each time she saw him?

Perched on the arm of his chair was Raven and she jumped up at the sight of Abigail and Octavia. "Well yer 'is bloody daughter, all right," she said triumphantly. "Easy on the eye, just like yer father."

Octavia looked bewildered at the attention and Marcus got to his feet. "Come and sit down," he said to her. "Don't pay any heed to Raven. She says what she thinks and her language is atrocious but you won't find a more loyal wench in the whole Caribbean." He gave Raven a playful cuff across the back of her head. "Mind yer language in front of me little girl." He held out his hand to Octavia and led her to his chair where he sat her down then knelt on one knee in front of her. "Raven is going to help Finn make us all some dinner as it seems Finn doesn't know his way around his own kitchen."

"Well yes," said Octavia. "I'm the cook, not Finn."

"Not today, sweetheart," said Marcus. "Today you're going to rest and after that...well we've a lot to discuss."

"How come ye talk all la di da all of a sudden?" demanded Raven. "Yer trying to impress someone?" And she winked at Abby. 

"Raven. Kitchen. Now!" Marcus glared at her and she laughed. "Well _someone's_ sensitive today," she said to Finn as they left the room.

Marcus shook his head in exasperation. "Bellamy, are you just going to sit there while a lady is standing?"

"I'm sorry, Papa," Bellamy said, dislodging Clarke and getting quickly to his feet. 

Nodding graciously at him, Abigail took the vacated chair and Clarke settled herself on the arm while the two men made do with the floor in front of Octavia's chair.

"Where have you been, O?" 

"Where have you _both_ been?" said Marcus. "I'm trying to piece together the story of what happened to you both." He took Octavia's hand in his. "If it's not too upsetting for you, that is."

She shook her head and smiled. "I told you, Papa. Now that you're here, I can talk about anything. Even...even Mama." She faltered for a moment but rallied herself. "When...when the house caught fire, Bell and I...I mean Marcus and I..."

"It's all right," said Marcus. "Call your brother whatever you're most comfortable with."

She nodded. "Bell and I couldn't get out of our bedroom. The fire was outside our door. We opened the window and shouted for help and then this man appeared underneath us. He shouted to us to jump and he would catch us. I wouldn't jump but Bell pushed me and the man caught me. Then he caught Bell and he put us both on his horse and rode away with us."

"And he didn't attempt to save your mother?" Marcus' voice was choked but whether it was with anger or with grief, Abigail couldn't tell. 

Bellamy shook his head. "Octavia was screaming for him to save Mama too but he said it was too late. He started to ride away with us and I looked back at the house and...and he was right. It _was_ too late. The whole house was on fire. No-one could have survived...no-one." He swallowed. "We went to live with the man and his wife, the Blakes.  At first we thought it was just until you came for us, then when we realised you weren't coming, we...we just started to think of them as our parents. We let them change our names and we thought that we would always be a family. But then Mr Blake caught a fever and died. Mother...I mean Mrs Blake, she wanted to go and live with her sister but her sister, Miss Byrne, said there was no room for us. Then she said she could take Octavia, but not me. Mrs Blake didn't know what to do then a friend of hers, Mrs Green said that she and her husband wanted a companion for their son, Monty." He gave a wry smile. "Monty was always among his books they said and they wanted someone to bring him out of himself. So they took me in and I spent the rest of my childhood at their home in Nassau. I received a good education and when I completed it, Mr Green arranged for me to take up a job with his old law firm in England." He shook his head. "But I swear, Papa, I didn't know Octavia was here working as a tavern wench. I would have looked after her had I known. I thought she was still with..."

"Hush, Son," Marcus soothed him. "You've done nothing wrong." He turned to Octavia. "So how did you end up here?"

She took a deep breath. "Mother died," she said to Bellamy. "It was just after your last visit. Once she was dead, Miss Byrne said she couldn't keep me. She sold her house and she sent me to an orphanage. It was..." She swallowed. "It wasn't a good place."

Marcus bowed his head and Abby's heart ached for him. How terrible to think that his child had been suffering and he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

"So anyway," Octavia continued. "I left as soon as I was able and I came here and Finn gave me a job. He's been so good to me."

"Are you...are you and he...?" Marcus asked.

Octavia burst out laughing. "Finn? Good God no." She smiled reassuringly at her father. "There hasn't been anyone, Papa."

"Good," said Marcus shortly.

"But what about everyone else?" she asked. "How did you and Bell find each other and what are you doing in this inn and who is Raven and why were you dressed as a priest if you're a pirate?" She gasped for breath and Marcus sighed. 

"Calm yourself and I'll start at the beginning," he said.

 

When everyone's story had been told to the satisfaction of all, they moved to the tavern area for a meal of rice and beans where Raven joined them. 

"So what now, Captain?" she asked Marcus. "Do we go back to the Arkadia?"

He shook his head. "I'll accompany you back there of course, if you want to go."

"You don't have to go," urged Abigail. "I've told you I can find you work on land."

Raven grinned. "Finn asked me if I'd stay on here but I turned im down. A pirate's life is the only life that makes me blood sing, Abigail and I know yer worried I'll end up swinging from a rope but I'll take me chances."

"Papa!" cried Octavia turning to him.

"Don't you worry, little bird, I'm only going to see Raven back safely. My life is on land now. Wherever you are, that's where I'll be from now on." He took hold of her hand. "I know I can never make up for all the years I've missed but I'm going to take care of you, Octavia."

"What about you, Bell?" said Octavia.

Bellamy shrugged. "I need to discuss things with Clarke. I have a job waiting for me in England, you see and as soon as I can get the money for passage..."

"You don't have to worry about money," said Abigail. "If you still want to travel to England, I'll give you the fare."

She turned to Marcus. "I'm sorry. I'm interfering but..."

"No, Abigail. You're helping to ensure my son and your daughter have a prosperous future," Marcus said. "You have nothing to apologise for." He squeezed Octavia's hand. "And how about you, Octavia? Would you like to start a new life in England?"

"Really?" Octavia's eyes opened wide.

"I'd like to keep my family together," he said. "But obviously it's a subject that needs discussion."

"Clarke, why don't you take Bellamy and Octavia to Diana's for a little while?" suggested Abigail. She laughed. "Obviously don't tell her about their connection with Marcus. But it will be more comfortable for you than this inn. And then when I get back..."

"You're coming back?" interrupted Clarke. 

Abigail sighed. She didn't want to turn Clarke against her father. She was already angry with him for trying to arrange her marriage. It wouldn't take much to set her against him completely and Abigail didn't want that. He was still Clarke's father after all.

"Your father and I have not had the best marriage for some time," she began.

"Ha!" said Clarke. "I think that's the understatement of the century, Mother. You were desperately unhappy. I know you tried to hide it from me but I have eyes, you know."

"It wasn't your father's fault entirely," began Abigail but Clarke waved her hand impatiently. "It doesn't really matter whose fault it was, does it? All I can say is when you find happiness, you have to grab it with both hands." And she gave Bellamy a look of such love and devotion that tears welled up in Abigail's eyes. 

"If...If you do decide to go to England, would you have any objection to me accompanying you?" she said hesitantly. "I mean, I wouldn't want to be in your way. It's just..."

She was interrupted by Clarke jumping to her feet and coming to give her a hug.

"Mother, you don't know how hard it was to leave you," she cried. "My place is with Bellamy now and always will be but you have no idea how I cried when I left you. I was inconsolable, wasn't I, Bellamy?"

"You were," said Bellamy. "And Lady Abigail, I'd be more than happy if you were to come to England. One day, I hope that Clarke and I may be blessed with children of our own and I'd like to think that she would have her mother's help and support."

"Oh!" said Marcus.

"What is it?" Abigail asked. 

 "Grandchildren," he said softly and there was such a sentimental look on his face that Abigail wanted to hug him. Of course, up until today he hadn't known that his children lived, so grandchildren would have been an impossibility for him. There was such a lot for him to adjust to.

"Yes," said Octavia suddenly. "I'd like to go to England, as long as you come too, Papa. I want us all to be together. You and me and Bell and one day, Bell's children. And Clarke and Lady Abigail of course."

"I think if we're all going to be one big family, people should stop referring to me as _Lady_ Abigail," Abigail said. "In fact, if you wanted to, Bellamy, I'd like it if you would call me Mother. Only if you wanted to of course."

"Mother?" echoed Bellamy and Octavia at the same time, both glancing from her to Marcus.

Abigail felt a flush start in her neck and rush up into her cheeks. "I...I mean because I am your mother in law."

Marcus was looking at her in a way that made her want to turn to him and say, _What? Stop looking at me in that way. You know I love you, You know I want us to be together._ But of course she did no such thing. She cleared her throat and looked down at her plate wishing someone would say something to break the silence. 

In the end, it was Raven who came to her rescue. "Listen, Marcus. I can make me own way back to the Arcadia. I don't want ye to have to leave yer kids."

"We could come with you," said Octavia excitedly.

"Absolutely not," said Marcus. 

"Oh but, Papa," she pleaded.

"No!" 

Her face fell and Marcus patted her hand. "Associating with pirates is not the life I want for you, my darling."

"Oh thank ye very much!" said Raven.

"Not counting you of course, sweetheart," said Marcus and he spoke with genuine fondness. "You are one in a million and I would be more than happy for my daughter to count you among her friends. I haven't thanked you for keeping an eye on Abigail for me when she was taken by Jaha. I felt so much better knowing that you were with her."

"Of course, she wouldn't have been taken by Jaha if you hadn't kidnapped her in the first place," said Clarke drily. 

Marcus bit his lip but Abigail knew her daughter well enough to know that she wasn't seriously annoyed with Marcus anymore. It was just her way of letting him know he was on probation at the moment.

"Well if Marcus hadn't kidnapped me," she said. "None of this would have happened." And she spread her arms wide to encompass the whole table. "I am reunited with my daughter and Marcus is reunited with his children."

"Yes," said Bellamy. "Where would we be now, Clarke if my father hadn't told that sailor he would pay for our lodgings?"

"And if you hadn't come to stay here, I would never have seen you again," cried Octavia. 

"If I hadn't seen Abigail treat Jaha's man with tonic water, I never would have known to give it to you," said Marcus. "And you could be..." He shook his head.

"It's like it was all meant to be," said Raven. "It's a funny thing fate, isn't it Abby?" And she winked at Abigail and then again at Marcus.

Marcus cleared his throat. "Anyway we need to think about leaving if we're to find a boat to take us to Tobago." He turned to Abby. "What I was thinking is this. You come with us to Tobago, I'll deliver Raven safely to the Arkadia and explain to the crew that I won't be coming back. Then with your permission, Abigail I'll accompany you back to Nassau. Once you're safely ashore, I can get another boat back here and we'll wait for your return. I'll stay here at the inn."

"Oh please, let me come with you, Papa," cried Octavia. "I can't say goodbye to you again. I just can't. I don't want to go and stay wherever it is Bellamy and Clarke are going. I don't know that person."

"You know your brother," Marcus said.

"But he and Clarke have each other. They're newlyweds. And I've only just got you back, Papa. Please!" 

Tears trickled down Octavia's cheeks and Marcus looked torn. 

"How about this?" suggested Abby. "We go back to Tobago and we take rooms at an inn for the night. Then you can take Raven back to the Arkadia and Octavia and I can stay safely at the inn."

Marcus shook his head with a smile. "Fine pirate I am, letting myself be swayed by a couple of women. All right, Octavia. But you stick to me and Abigail like glue, do you hear me?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are as ever much appreciated and help fuel my creative fire so that I can get on with writing this sex scene! Once again thank you for your patience.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lady Abigail is finally bedded by a pirate captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the sex scene. Sorry you've had to wait so long!

Octavia yawned loudly. "Does anyone mind if I go to bed?"

"No, that's fine," said Marcus. "You've not been well and you've had a long day. We all have." He got to his feet and wrapped his arms about his daughter as she stood.  "I'm so happy to have found you," he said, his voice husky. 

"I'm glad you found me too," she said, hugging him hard. "I told you, Papa. I always knew you'd come for me one day."

"I'll see you up to your room," he said. 

"Papa, no." Octavia shook her head, smiling at his over-protectiveness. "You stay with Abigail."

"No," Marcus said. "You've grown into a beautiful young woman and I wouldn't trust this lot in here not to molest you." He turned to Abigail. "Will you be alright down here by yourself, Abby? I won't be long."

Abigail cast a glance around the tavern where two elderly men were playing at cards and a drunk was slumped with his face in his dinner. She laughed. "I'm sure I'll be fine, Marcus. Go on up with Octavia. I'll try not to disturb you when I come up, Octavia. Oh!"

"What is it?" Marcus asked, frowning.

"It's nothing," she said. "Only that I had planned to ask them to bring me a bath up to the room. I've been washing myself as best as I can but it's been too long since I soaked in a bath of water. But it's all right. You go on up, Octavia. I can bathe in the morning."

She watched as Marcus walked out of the door with his daughter, one hand clamped protectively on her shoulder. They had been lucky that a ship was about to leave for Tobago in the late afternoon but by the time they had arrived and Marcus had delivered Raven safely to the Arcadia, the most respectable inn in the port had only two remaining rooms. Octavia had suggested that they could spend the night upon the Arcadia but Marcus had refused point-blank. 

"Absolutely not!" he had said. "That life is behind me now and there is no way I'm letting _my_ daughter on a pirate ship."

"Well, Abigail came out of it with her honour unsullied," Octavia said cheekily, earning an alarmingly raised eyebrow from her Papa.

Marcus shook his head then locked eyes with Abigail. _There's still time,_  his expression seemed to say and her stomach flipped over with anticipation.

 

When Marcus came back downstairs he pulled his chair closer to hers as if he was about to involve her in some conspiracy. 

"I was thinking that you could get them to take a bath up to my room," he said. "I'll give you privacy, of course. I'll wait down here."

She bit her lip and nodded. She wanted to say, _no stay and scrub my back_ , but she didn't want to be too forward. And he was being respectful of her which was good. She was a married woman after all. But then, what had that kiss meant and those glances he kept giving her that set her on fire?

"I'll ask them to take a tub up then," he said and he went off to speak to the tavern wench.

Abigail watched him as he walked. He had a confident stride with legs planted wide apart, back straight, head held high; the man had an undeniable presence. The wench coloured prettily as he spoke to her, despite being only half his age, and Abigail wondered just how many women he had had in his bed. Raven had told her one night on Jaha's ship that it must be in the hundreds and rather than being shocked at his morals, all she had been able to think was how _experienced_ he must be, how knowledgeable he must be about women's bodies, just how they liked to be touched.  That night in her bed while Raven had snored softly beside her, she had reached down and touched herself, stroking herself softly even as she told herself it was wrong to think of another man in that way.

Now he was walking back to her and she couldn't take her eyes from him. 

"Whats wrong?" he asked her. 

"Nothing," she said and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. "I-I just like watching you walk," she said boldly. "You have a real pirate's swagger."

Marcus looked surprised for a moment then the corners of his eyes crinkled and he treated her to the one-sided smirk she found so attractive.

"I've had that said to me more than once," he said. "The ladies, they do have a theory about it."

"Do they now?" she said, one eyebrow arched. Her heart was racing, she was a respectable married woman and here she was flirting with a pirate. For whatever he had been before or intended to be in the future, Marcus Kane would forever be to her the dashing pirate captain who had thrown her over his shoulder and taken her upon his ship. 

He said nothing but his gaze held hers for such a long moment that she felt in danger of drowning in those coffee-coloured orbs. She was aware that her breathing had quickened and she felt almost dizzy.

"Did they - did they say they would take up a bath for me?" she asked, needing to break the spell before she disgraced herself entirely by falling in a faint at his feet.

"Aye," he said softly, his gaze still on hers. He cleared his throat. "I'll need to go up and clear a space for you. You may recall that I'm not the tidiest of men."

 She laughed. "I do indeed." She got to her feet. "I may as well come with you."

Marcus pushed back his chair and stood, holding out his hand to her and with only the slightest hesitation, she took it. Her hand felt lost in his, his skin was warm to the touch with callouses on his palm from a lifetime of manual work. He had strong, capable hands and she felt a delicious tingling between her legs at the thought of feeling their roughness against her skin.

Neither of them spoke a word as they ascended the narrow wooden staircase but the air between them seemed to crackle the way it did when a tropical storm was in the air. 

Once in his room, he closed the door and turned to her, his body only inches from her own. 

"Abigail," he said, his voice husky.

"Captain," she whispered back. 

He grinned. "Captain?"

"You're _my_  Captain," she murmured and she lifted a hand to his stubbled cheek.

"And are ye me wench?" he asked her, turning his head to drop a light kiss on her palm.

She laughed in an attempt to dissipate the growing tension. "You've gone all piratey."

He raised an eyebrow. "Piratey? Is that how you like me then, Lady Abigail?" He wrapped an arm about her waist and she caught her breath as he pulled her hard against him.

"A good many ladies may dream of being ravished by a handsome pirate, I dare say," she whispered.

"Aye, but to ravish is to take a woman against her will," he said. "I'd sooner the lady was willing."

His words reminded her of his reputation with women and she drew back from him, pushing his arm away from her waist.

"And there have been so many willing ladies, have there not?" she said, unable to keep the hauteur from her voice.

He frowned. "Does that bother you, Abby? I can't change my past though I would if I could for you. Are you worried that I'll find you lacking in experience? You needn't be. I'm a good..."

"Oh you insufferable, arrogant man!" she cried. "I can assure you that while I may not have been bedded by as many men as your usual tavern wenches and whores, I am as proficient in the art of love-making as any of them! How like a man to think that lack of experience was my concern!"

"I-I'm sorry, Abby," he said, flustered. "I only thought that..."

He was interrupted by a knocking at the door. Cursing under his breath, he threw it open to admit a woman carrying a bathtub, a man carrying two buckets of steaming water and a young boy carrying a bucket of cold. 

"I'll leave you to your bath then, shall I?" Marcus said, his voice rough.

"Indeed," she replied.

When he was gone and she was alone with her bath, she felt tears pricking at her eyes. What had just happened? How could she explain that it wasn't his experience that worried her, it was just... She let out her breath in a shuddering sigh. He'd had so many conquests and she didn't want to be just another prize for him to add to his collection. The way he looked at her told her she was more than that but what if he looked at every woman in the same way? What if that was just part of his charm? After all, wasn't it the hallmark of every great lover that he made every woman feel that she was the only one?

Angrily she struggled with the laces on her dress. Raven had helped her on with it earlier in the absence of a ladies maid. At the thought of Raven, she remembered the pirate wench's words, _yer special to him_. Was she right? After all, she knew Marcus as well as anybody. Oh damn these laces! Anger and frustration overwhelmed her and she sat on the edge of Marcus' bed and sobbed as if her heart was breaking. It was all just too much, Jacob's indifference, being reunited with Clarke, the attentions of Marcus Kane; her emotions had been buffeted from one extreme to the other. She threw herself face-down onto the coverlet and let it muffle her cries so that she could weep unrestrained then suddenly warm hands were on her shoulders pulling her upright and through her tears she turned and saw Marcus' worried face. 

"Abigail, what's wrong?" he asked her, stroking the hair from her forehead. "I knocked on the door to see if you needed anything and all I could hear was your crying. Is it me? Have I done something to upset you? Please tell me. I'd do anything to make it right."

She shook her head. "N-not really," she said. "Only I-I don't just want to be your latest conquest. I'm worth more than that. And I'm a married woman. I'm not about to betray my husband for one night of pleasure. And I can't...why are you smiling, Marcus? Do I amuse you?"

"Oh Abigail," he murmured and he gathered her in so that her tear-stained cheek was pressed against his chest.

She knew she should pull away but his arms were so strong and comforting and his chest so broad. And he smelled so good, of leather and clean sweat and of the sea. 

"Abigail," he said again and it seemed her name was a prayer upon his lips. "How can you not know that I love you?" 

She lifted her head to see him gazing down upon her. "You-you love me?" she whispered.

"Aye," he said. "I know you don't feel the same as yet but can I dare to hope that you may love me in time? I don't have the right to ask it, I know and as you say, you're a married woman. But you did say that you were leaving him and I thought that...I mean I hoped you might..."

"Oh, Marcus," she breathed. She reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair. "I do have feelings for you. I've been afraid to call it love but I don't know what else to call it. I mean it's more than the regard I would have for a friend but..." She got no further as Marcus stopped her words with a kiss.

At first it was the sweetest, gentlest kiss. He drew his tongue along her lower lip, eliciting a low moan from her then as her lips parted for him, he deepened the kiss and gave an answering moan, pulling her to him so that her breasts were crushed against his chest. Kissing Marcus Kane was like nothing she'd ever known before. She felt as if she wanted him to absorb her into him so that they merged into one person and she pressed harder against him as if to make that happen. 

Then she felt herself being lowered backwards, the bed was against her back and his fingers were at the laces of her bodice. He drew back from kissing her and she saw that his his eyes were darkened with lust.

"Do you want this, Abby?" he asked her. 

She felt unable to speak but she managed to nod.

His practised fingers made short work of unlacing her bodice and when he had loosened them, he pulled it down so that her breasts spilled over the top. For a moment, he simply stared down at them as if in awe then he dragged one calloused finger across her nipple. 

She arched her back and let out a long, tortured moan. "Oh, Marcus, don't stop."

"Your bath will be getting cold," he reminded her. "Would Milady like some assistance?"

"With my bath?" She sat up. Bathing was something she'd only ever done in private with maybe her maid, Harper to assist. Jacob had never expressed a desire to see her at her bath but Marcus...Marcus was a different sort of man from Jacob, less refined, earthier, more elemental. 

"You could help me out of my dress," she murmured. 

Marcus stood up and pulled her to her feet then he loosened the laces that held her dress fastened at the back until they were so loose, her dress slipped off her shoulders.

"You have such beautiful shoulders," he said, caressing them. "Your skin is so smooth it looks as if it's been polished." He bent his head and his stubble rasped against her skin as he planted hot kisses from her shoulder down her collarbone to her breasts. He stopped teasingly and pulled away to push her dress down over her hips where it pooled at her feet leaving her standing before him naked except for her thin cotton shift. "My God, Abby you're beautiful," he breathed. He turned her so that her back was to him and quickly he released her hair from its pins until it tumbled about her shoulders. "You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. 

She arched her back against him with an impatient moan. Her whole body was burning with a fire that only he could put out and she needed him to take her now. 

He chuckled against her hair. "Patience, Lady Abigail," he murmured. "I want to throw you down on my bed and have you right now but I want you to always remember our first night together." He pushed her hair over one shoulder and kissed the nape of her neck slowly, teasing her then he reached around to her breasts and traced a line around a nipple with one finger.

She forced herself to relax, to focus on the sensations without thinking of what would come next but it was so difficult. His hardness was pressing against her, she could feel how large it was and she imagined how it would feel moving inside her. But first...ohhh he had pushed his other hand under the waistband of her shift and his fingers were searching greedily lower, seeking out her core. She moved her hips, grinding her bottom against his erection and was rewarded by the sound of him hissing through his teeth. He squeezed her nipple with the fingers and thumb of one hand while with his other hand he cupped her pubis. She cried out as he parted the lips of her sex with two long fingers. 

"You're so wet, Abigail," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. 

She closed her eyes and remembered how he had thrown her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a child. He had snatched her from the street, from her empty, meaningless life, and now he was making her his. She groaned as he pushed one finger inside her while his thumb found the little bundle of nerves and caressed it, drawing lazy circles that made her whimper. 

He laughed softly against her neck. "I'm supposed to be getting you ready for your bath." He turned her back to face him and with both hands he pulled down her shift so that she was naked. 

She blushed as he ran his gaze slowly over her body, his expression serious. "What are you thinking?" she asked. 

He shook his head and gave a low whistle. "That you're perfect," he said.

"Oh I don't know about that," she said, suddenly embarrassed. "I've had a child," and she pointed to where a network of fine silvery marks crossed her belly.

Marcus sank to his knees in front of her and to her surprise he touched his lips to her stretch marks. "Your motherhood makes you even more beautiful in my eyes," he whispered and she remembered then what he had lost and tears came into her eyes.

She reached one hand down and threaded her fingers through his hair and gasped as his fingers found her sex once more. 

No longer teasing, he thrust two fingers inside her, scissoring them to stretch her wider then crooking them so that they hit a spot inside her that made her catch her breath sharply. He pumped his fingers in and out of her and his thumb pressed directly on her clitoris.

She felt as if she would faint with pleasure and was sure she would fall were it not for his arm wrapped around her thighs, pulling her towards him. Jake had never done anything like this to her, he had never devoted himself to her pleasure as Marcus was doing. 

"God, Marcus," was all she could manage to say and her voice sounded strained and guttural then she felt a desperate urgency begin to gather inside her. "Oh please, Marcus, don't stop, don't stop, don't...aahhhhh!" She cried out as the urgency seemed to explode throughout her whole body and all she was aware of was Marcus' practised fingers wringing her orgasm out of her. Her knees gave way and Marcus pulled her down so that she was kneeling with him. 

"I've never..." she gasped into his neck as he held her gently, stroking her back.

"Never?" he repeated. He sounded shocked and she lifted her head so that she was looking into his eyes. "Never," she promised him. "That was the best...I mean..." she stopped, suddenly shy. 

"Oh, Abigail," he murmured. "I can do much better than that. Did Jacob...did he ever give you pleasure with his mouth?"

Abigail gasped. She had heard of men pleasuring women with their mouths but it was not something Jacob had ever expressed an interest in. "With his mouth?" she echoed.

"Aye," he growled. "I want to make you come again but this time I want to use my tongue on you. I want to taste you and I want to feel your juices soaking my face."

Abigail felt faint at the thought. "My bath," she managed to say. 

Marcus smiled down at her. "Of course, let's get you clean before I get you all hot and sweaty again." He took her hand and led her to the tub. He tested the temperature with his hand and added a little more cold water from one of the jugs. The he took her hand again. "If Milady would care to step in," he said, steadying her as she climbed into her bath. 

"What about you?" she said as she sank down gratefully into the heavenly warmth.

"Are you asking me to join you?" he said with one eyebrow raised.

"I'm ordering you to," she said with pretended hauteur. 

"As your Ladyship desires," he said. He threw off his leather waistcoat then pulled his white linen shirt off over his head.

She drank in the sight of him hungrily, from his broad chest to his flat stomach, his torso was as tanned brown by the sun as his arms were. A t shape of dark hair ran down from just below his navel, disappearing tantalisingly inside his breeches. Then as she watched, he unbuckled his wide leather belt and let his breeches fall to the floor and stepped out of them to stand before her in all his magnificence. His legs were long and firm muscled, the only sign that he was no longer in the first flush of youth was a slight thickening of the flesh around his hips but this only served to make her feel better about the signs of ageing on her own body. But what really drew her attention was his manhood. She only had Jake's to compare it with but it compared very favourably indeed. Not only was it at least the equal of Jake's in length, but it was considerably thicker and a shiver of pleasure rippled down her spine as she thought of how it would feel inside her, hot, heavy, filling her, possessing her. 

Not taking her eyes off him, she picked up the small bar of soap that the servants had left next to the bath and she began to work it up into a lather between her hands. 

"Let me," he said, stepping into the bath. He lowered himself into the the water and held out his hand for the soap. "Turn around."

She closed her eyes blissfully as he worked the lather into her shoulders.

"Shall I wash your hair?" he asked her.

She nodded. "That would be nice."

Marcus massaged the lilac scented soap into her roots, kneading her scalp with strong fingers until she was so relaxed she felt she could fall asleep right there. Then he carefully rinsed out all of the suds using fresh water from the jug.

"Kneel up," he ordered and she obeyed him, her legs shaking as with a firm hand he soaped between her legs. 

When he was satisfied that she was clean, he handed her the soap and got to his feet in the tub.

She soaped his lower legs and thighs, thrilling at the hard muscle under her hands. When she reached the apex of his thighs, she hesitated. Marcus was looking down at her through half closed lids and he nodded as if giving her permission. Carefully she grasped his cock in one soapy hand and closed her fingers around it making a fist.

Marcus drew in his breath and she pulled the skin up and down rhythmically until he clamped his hand over hers. "Enough," he gasped. "You'll make me come if you don't stop and I want to save myself."

He knelt back down and turned his back to her. She massaged soap into his broad shoulders, easing out the knots of tension with her thumbs for which she was rewarded by a deep groan. 

"That's wonderful, Abby. You have magic hands."

She smiled to herself then rubbed soap into his hair and began to massage his scalp as he had done to her. "I love your hair," she said. "Its so thick and so soft and that little curl that falls over your forehead sometimes...You've no idea how I've wanted to touch it, to push it out of your eyes."

"It's your job from now on," he promised her.

When she was satisfied he was totally clean she got to her feet. "Stand up," she said. 

He did as she asked and she turned him to face her then stood on tiptoe to kiss him.

"You're so handsome, Captain," she murmured. 

He grinned. "Ye like calling me Captain?"

She lifted a hand to his cheek. "I told you. You're _my_ Captain," she said softly. 

He stared at her then with one decisive movement he stepped out of the bathtub and swung her up into his arms. He strode over to the bed where he deposited her onto the bedspread. 

"Marcus!" she squealed. "The sheets will get soaked."

"Then I'll sleep on the floor," he growled. "I'm not waiting any longer to make ye mine, wench."

Abby giggled at his accent but a thrill ran down her spine at the same time. There was something so sexy about Marcus as a pirate captain. She looked forward to him growing his beard back and maybe he could seize her as he had that first evening and throw her over his shoulder...She gasped as he kissed her collarbone then dropped a line of kisses down to her breast, his lips burning against her damp skin. He took one nipple between his teeth and nibbled it gently, looking up at her through his wet curls. Then he moved down her body, leaving a trail of kisses. When he gently nosed the soft triangle of her pubic hair she couldn't help bucking her hips.

"Oh God, Marcus!"

He took hold of her hips, holding her firmly in place as he kissed her where no man had kissed her before. His kiss was so light and tender at first then he put out his tongue and licked a line up between her folds that wrought an inarticulate cry from her. 

She grasped his hair and threw back her head as he moved his tongue in a figure of eight around her clitoris then took it between his lips and sucked gently. He pushed two fingers slowly inside her, opening her up and she moaned in ecstasy. 

She never wanted this to stop, it was too good. She wanted to stay here forever, sprawled across these damp sheets with her handsome pirate captain between her legs. But all too soon her body was being stretched out as if she was on a rack and a tortuous orgasm surged through her. 

When Marcus raised his head, his face was wet with her juices and she blushed. But he only smiled and drew the back of his hand across his chin.

"Ye taste like the sweetest honey, Lady Abigail, no need to blush, though I do like the pinkness in yer cheeks."

He kissed his way back up her body, his great hands splayed across her breasts and she felt herself responding again as he tongued each nipple in turn until they were as hard as pebbles. His cock was laying against her belly and she felt it twitching in anticipation. 

She reached down and took it in her hands. "Would you like me to...to return the favour?" she asked him.

"Aye, one day," he said. "For now, Abigail, I'm aching to feel meself inside ye. You were so tight around me fingers, I can't wait to feel ye grasping me cock."

She felt herself blushing again and she lowered her gaze. But he grasped her chin and tilted it upwards so that she was forced to look him in the eyes. She expected to see teasing there. For all her talk of being experienced, she knew that having only lain with one man, she was as innocent as a maid compared to Marcus and she wondered if this amused him. But his gaze was heavy and full of love for her and she felt tears pricking her own eyes. 

"I know what you're thinking," he said softly, all trace of the pirate gone from his voice. "The way you blush when I talk to you about what I want to do to you, I'm guessing your husband never talked to you like this."

"No," she confessed. "He...he...I suppose he just took his pleasure."

"And you're feeling shy with me because I'm different," he said, wiping a tear away from her cheek. "Abigail, to be the first man to bring you pleasure is the greatest honour I can imagine." He bent his head to hers and kissed her so tenderly her heart swelled with love for him. With a moan she opened to him and their tongues commenced a languid battle then his hardness was nudging at her entrance and she parted her legs to allow him to push inside her, groaning deep in her throat as he eased his way in. 

At first, he kept still allowing her to become accustomed to his girth then he began to move, slowly at first, pulling almost all the way out then sliding back in. He pulled away from kissing her lips and she felt his breath hot against her neck. 

"You're so wet, Abby," he murmured. "So wet and tight and hot."

There was no denying it was good to hear him talk like this, it heated her passion even more and she wondered if she should talk back to him in the same fashion. 

"Fuck me harder!" she gasped and was rewarded by him plunging into her so deeply that he took her breath away. 

He grasped hold of her buttocks and dug his fingers into their softness and she raised her legs to give him even more of her. He responded by pulling himself up onto his knees and moving her ankles onto his shoulders holding them there as he thrust into her over and over, grinning down at her as she cried out in ecstasy and disbelief.

Just as she thought she couldn't take any more, his expression changed. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw and she knew he was close. 

"Yes, Marcus," she murmured. "Come for me."

He groaned and at the sound of his pleasure she felt her own excitement rising again and she cried out softly. Marcus took one hand from around her ankle and brought it down between their bodies. He stroked her sex with his thumb in rhythm with his thrusts and when they came it was together with a cry from Abby and a shout from Marcus.  

They lay in each other's arms, panting, sweating, still wet from their bath. Abigail felt so sated, so relaxed and drowsy that she felt she could fall asleep where she lay. She burst out laughing. 

"Are ye laughing at yer Captain, wench?" he growled, slapping her lightly on her behind.

"No," she managed between giggles. "I'm wondering how on earth you're going to sleep in this bed now."

He raised himself up on one elbow. "Does this mean you won't be staying with me tonight?"

"No, I'll go to my own room," she said regretfully. "I don't want Octavia to know about us yet. She's only just got used to having you in her life again."

"That's very thoughtful of you, Abigail," he said. "But are you sure you're not just avoiding the wet sheets?" And he nipped playfully at her neck with his teeth. 

She laughed again. "Well, maybe a little." She took his face between her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. "There will be many more nights to spend together, my love." But as she spoke her heart sank. It was all very well existing in the moment with the man she now realised she loved, but she still had to face Jacob. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual comments are welcomed and devoured.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Abigail discovers that the course of true love never runs smooth.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Marcus asked for the fifth time.

"No, I've told you. I'll be fine." Abigail ran her fingers over his frown lines as if to smooth them away. "The captain seems like a gentleman and I'm sure the two ladies travelling together will make pleasant companions." She shook her head as he opened his mouth to object. "Marcus, I don't want you setting foot on Nassau. I don't want you anywhere near Jacob. Besides, what money we have left will be put to better use returning you and Octavia to the inn at Port of Spain. I promise you, I won't be long."

"How long?" he said with a hint of petulance as he pulled her hard against him. 

"When I get home, I'll spend no more than a week with Jacob," she said. "Then I'll take the next available ship to Trinidad. All being well, we should be together within the month."

"A month?" he groaned. "I'm sorry, Abby. I don't mean to make this any harder than it already is, but I keep thinking, what if you don't come back?"

"And why shouldn't I come back?" she scolded him. She smiled and stroked back the curl of hair that fell roguishly over one eye. "I love you, Marcus and I can't wait to start our life together."

 

Abigail couldn't help the butterflies in her stomach as she walked along the familiar road to her house. She had planned out her meeting with Jacob in her head so many times over the voyage, but now that she was about to face him, her courage felt as if it was about to desert her. 

"Mistress! Oh, Mistress!"

Abigail was distracted from her thoughts by the sight of her maid, Harper rushing to her.

"Harper!" She clutched the girl's arms as she reached her. "It's alright. I'm back."

"Oh, Mistress, we thought you were dead," gasped the girl. "Master told us you and Miss Clarke had been taken by pirates and had your throats cut."

"Master spoke too soon," said Abigail grimly. "He will no doubt be surprised to see me."

"And Miss Clarke?" asked Harper, looking about her.

"Miss Clarke is married, Harper. She is Mrs Blake now and she is...well never mind where she is, but she is quite safe."

 

The information vouchsafed by Harper banished the last of the butterflies replacing them with anger, and by the time Abigail stormed into Jacob's study, she was incandescent with fury.

"Abigail!" Jacob looked at her as if the devil himself had walked into the room.

"What the hell do you mean by telling the servants that Clarke and I are dead?" she raged. She noticed that he was dressed in funereal black and she sneered. "You're wasted in business, Jacob, you should have taken to the damn stage!"

"Abigail!" he said again. "Your language. Please!"

"What?" She gave a harsh laugh. " _That's_ what concerns you most at the moment? My _language_? I must forever be the lady to you, mustn't I, Jacob? I must never step out of line, never think for myself."

"Abigail," he said quietly. "Calm yourself. Think of the servants. Now sit down and we will talk."

Abigail threw herself down into a chair. "Why did you not pay my ransom, Jacob?" She tried to keep the hurt from her voice, but it still pained her that after all these years, he cared so little for her.

Jacob turned his back to her and poured two glasses of Madeira. 

"My first priority was the whereabouts of my daughter," he said, handing her a glass. "The letter I was given stated that _you_ had been snatched. It said nothing of Clarke. Yet when I went to find her, she was missing and her maid informed me that she had left the inn with her mother. A little more investigation on my part and it appeared that not only had my wife and daughter gone missing, but so had a certain Bellamy Blake, a young man of neither family nor fortune with whom my daughter had been spending far too much time of late. It didn't take me long to work out that Clarke had eloped with this boy and that it had been with your connivance." He gave her a rueful smile. "I _had_ wondered why you were so insistent that you and Clarke accompany me to the port. You had never shown any interest in my business before. You said, if I recall, that the sea air would be good for Clarke and as she had been looking pale of late, I foolishly acquiesced. Now I know that you just needed to be close to the sea to make your escape." He took a long swallow of his drink. "The letter I received...I must confess I was perplexed. _Had_ you been snatched by pirates on the very same evening that my daughter eloped? Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you agree? And yet there was the ransom note. I pondered for a while until I had convinced myself that it was simply a ruse my dear wife had concocted to extract money from me to finance my daughter's new life."

Abigail felt a pang of guilt at how close he was to the truth. After all, she _was_ planning to ask him for more money than she owed Diana. She straightened in her seat. No, she would not feel guilty. He owed her something for all the years she had been a good obedient wife to him. Now it was _her_ turn to live a life she had chosen for herself.

"Well, you were mistaken," she said stiffly. "Not about Clarke, she has eloped with Mr Blake and I did assist them. I know you intended for her to marry Cage Wallace and I knew that from a business point of view that would have been a good match, but it was not something Clarke wanted." She ventured a conciliatory smile. "I hope you can put aside your disappointment and be happy that your daughter has married a man she truly loves. They are at present on their way to England where Mr Blake is to take up a position in a firm of solicitors. So, while she may not have the place in society that you would have wished for her, you may rest assured she will hardly be living in squalor." 

 She took a sip of her drink and watched Jacob. His cheeks were red and he was clenching his fists by his side. "As for myself," she continued, "I was indeed captured by pirates. They were none too pleased when the ransom was not forthcoming and they threatened to slit my throat from ear to ear." She was gratified to see the look of shock on Jacob's face. "However, I convinced them to make for Port of Spain where a message was conveyed to my cousin. It was she who paid the ransom of five hundred silver dollars. Of course, I assured her that you would repay her in full."

"Five hundred?" said Jacob with a frown. "The note said three hundred and fifty."

"Well when you decided not to pay the ransom, the sum was increased," said Abigail. She sighed. "Anyway, our separation has allowed me time to think, Jacob. You and I have not had a true marriage for a long time and now that Clarke has left, I see no need for us to continue with our charade. You had clearly given me up for dead anyway." She gestured to his sombre clothing.

"What else was I to say?" demanded Jacob. "That my daughter had run off with a peasant and my wife had gone along with them? Allow me some dignity, Abigail."

"And yet here I am," she said. "As alive as you are. We will need to think of some story to keep the gossips happy. As for me, I will stay no longer than a week and then I will take the ransom money to Diana and I will stay with her."

Jacob's face had turned as white as his shirt collar and his lips were pressed together in a thin bloodless line. "You stupid, foolish woman," he said and he seemed to choke on his own words. "You say Clarke and Cage Wallace would have been a good match from a business perspective. A _good_ match? Abigail that match was _essential_." 

She frowned. "I don't understand."

"No, why would you?" he said, more kindly now. "I have always sheltered you from the harsh realities of business. I wanted your life to be as free from troubles as possible. But it...it has not been easy these past few years. There have been fluctuations in the price of sugar and in hindsight, some of the decisions I have taken may have been ill-advised."

She stared at him. "Just what are you saying, Jacob?"

"I am saying, my dear, that we are broke. The alliance with the Wallace family was to have been our salvation. We would have joined our business empires and Dante Wallace would have made good our losses. It would have been in both our interests as our children and grandchildren would then inherit both businesses. But now..." He held up his hands and grinned without humour. "Now with your connivance, that will never happen. So I'm afraid Diana will just have to wait for her money." 

A cold dread settled in Abigail's stomach as she contemplated the future without money. How would they all get to England now and on what would they live? Then she mentally shook herself. Jacob still had this fine house, his carriages, a full household of staff.

"I'm afraid I cannot expect my cousin to suffer for your poor business decisions," she said. "And I cannot imagine how it will affect your reputation when I tell her your answer. You know how dear Diana likes to talk. Why the tale of your ruin will be all over the Caribbean by Christmas."

Jacob drew up a chair next to hers and took her hand. "Abigail," he said and he smiled at her in a way he hadn't done for a long time. "I'm sorry that you feel our marriage was not what you expected. I too miss those days when we were young and carefree. We were everything to each other at one time, were we not?"

Tears started in Abigail's eyes. "We could have been still," she said. "But you changed, Jacob and you made it plain I was not the wife you wanted me to be. I've been lonely and if it wasn't for Clarke, I don't know how I would have borne it." She shook her head. "And now Clarke has left to start her new life and I want the same for myself."

"Oh, Abby," he said gently. "We were young when we fell in love, we had no responsibilities, but we had to grow up and live the lives that were destined for us. I have given you a good home, have I not, every comfort you could have wished for?" When she didn't answer, he squeezed her hand. "But I understand if you wish to leave me. I have not been the husband you thought I would be. I have not perhaps given you the attention that you needed. So, I will let you go to Diana. All I ask is that you give me some time to raise the money we owe her."

"How much time?" she asked. His words were kind and she felt genuinely moved by them but the nicer he was to her, the more she missed Marcus. She had promised to be back within the month and she didn't want to make him wait a moment longer. 

He sighed. "I have money tied up in a new venture. It will be difficult without Dante Wallace's help but I know I can still make it work, given time. Hopefully, if all goes as well as I hope, then I can start releasing funds in a year's time. You may still leave for Trinidad if you wish, I will provide the money for your passage, but you must prevail on Diana's good nature to wait for her money." He smiled confidently. "After all, she is a very rich woman, she can scarcely be missing what to her will be a trivial amount." 

A _year_? Abigail felt as if she was suffocating. She lifted her chin and pulled her hand away from his. "I would not dream of shaming our name by asking her to wait for money which she lent to us in good faith," she said. "I don't care if you have to mortgage every asset you own. Five hundred silver dollars is not so great a sum that you cannot lay your hands on it somehow. If you don't pay Diana what you owe her as a gentleman should, then I will see to it that you never hold up your head in society again."

 Jacob stared at her and it occurred to her that he was looking at her in the same fashion as one might regard a venomous snake. 

"You must be tired," he said eventually. "Why don't you retire to your room? I'll have Harper bring you some tea and then we can discuss matters further over dinner."

"You will see to it that I get the money?" she demanded.

"You have left me with no choice it seems."

 

Back in the familiarity of her room, Abigail realised that her heart was pounding. The conversation with Jacob had left her shaken. She hated having to lie to him and threaten him, but she had no choice if she was to secure her future with Marcus. At the thought of the man she loved, she was seized with a longing so violent it seemed it would tear her in two. Soon, soon she would be with him again. She would feel the warmth of those strong arms around her once more, run her fingers through those tangled locks, gaze into those dark eyes that seemed to see into her very soul. He'd had stubble on his chin when she left him, by the time she returned he would have a full beard once more, and she would be able to stroke it as she'd longed to before and feel it rasping against her thighs when he...

She was interrupted in her reverie by a knock on her door. "Come in," she called.

The door opened and Harper came in. "The Master instructed me to bring you this," she said, placing a delicate china cup containing hot tea on the table next to her bed.  

"Thank you, Harper." Abigail picked up the cup and took a sip of the tea. She grimaced. "Did you pour this?"

"No, Milady. I took the tea things to Master and he poured it. Is something wrong?"

Abigail shook her head. "It's a little sweet for my taste, that's all. Sir Jacob must have added too much sugar."

"Will I get you another cup, Milady?"

"No matter," Abigail reassured her. "I'll just drink this one."

Harper nodded. "It's good to have you back, Milady. Master had given me notice to leave. He said I was no longer needed as you...you were dead. I'm so glad you're alive.Is there anything I can do for you. Can I brush your hair?" And she cast a disapproving glance at the loose braid Abigail had fashioned for herself. 

Abigail sighed. "Sit down, Harper. I need to tell you something."

Harper drew up the stool from the dressing table and perched upon it expectantly.

"I'm very much afraid you will still need to find another job," Abigail said gently. "I am only here for a short while and then I leave again. I am going to live with my cousin in Trinidad. She has not been herself lately and needs a companion. Sir Jacob is very busy with the sugar plantations at the moment and he thinks it best that I have something with which to occupy myself. You understand I am telling you this in confidence, Harper. I can trust you not to tittle tattle in the servants' hall."

 Harper drew herself up indignantly. "Of course, Milady. I won't breathe a word."

"Thank you, Harper. I will of course give you excellent references before I leave."

"Thank you, Milady."

Abigail finished her tea and put the cup back onto its saucer. "No need to thank me. You have been a most excellent ladies' maid. And now, if you will excuse me, I feel quite drowsy. I think I will lie down before dinner."

 

She was awoken by voices outside her door and she looked about her feeling disoriented. The room was in darkness. Was it night already? How had she slept for so long a time? She sat up quickly and the room seemed to tilt on its side before righting itself. How odd. Was she ill? Before she had a chance to wonder any further, her door was opened and her husband walked in carrying a lantern. Two men walked in behind him. 

"You're awake, my dear," he said. "This is Mr Shumway and Mr McCreary. They've come to take you some place where you can rest and get better."

 "What do you mean by this?" she demanded and it felt as if she was speaking through a mouthful of oatmeal. "How dare you bring men into my bedroom!"

"Please go quietly, Abigail," said Jacob in a pained voice. "You know it's for the best."

"Come along, Lady Griffin," McCreary said and he pulled her off the bed none too gently.

"Be careful!" said Jacob roughly. "She is not herself but she is still my wife. Please treat her with respect."

"Get off me!" Abigail shouted. She pulled away from the man's grasp. "How dare you lay hands on me! Jacob, what is happening?"

"We'll need to sedate her if we can't use force," said McCreary. "Do you have any objection, Sir?"

Jacob sighed. "No, do what you have to do."

"Shumway, the ether," said McCreary.

The other man produced a bottle and poured some of its contents into a handkerchief  then, as McCreary held her arms, he held it over her face until the room went black and she stopped struggling at last.

 

 When she awoke, it was daylight. She tried to get up but her arms wouldn't move. Turning her head, she saw that she was lying on a narrow low bed with an iron frame to which her wrists had been shackled. Terror rose within her chest into her throat threatening to choke her. Where was she? 

"Hello," she called out. "Is anyone there?" There was no response and she called out louder, "Somebody please!" When there was still no response, she took a deep breath and screamed.

She was rewarded by the sound of footsteps and a jangling of keys. The door opened and a tall woman with blonde hair pulled into an unflattering bun stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"So, you're awake, are you?" she said roughly, but not unkindly. "I'll take the manacles off if you promise to be a good girl. Do you promise?"

Abigail bristled inwardly at being spoken to like a child but she nodded. "Yes."

The woman freed her wrists and Abigail sat up. 

"Where am I?" she demanded.

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's a private hospital for the insane," she said. "You have the good fortune to be here because you have a wealthy husband who is prepared to pay for you."

"Good fortune?" Abigail echoed.

"Why yes," said the other woman. "You wouldn't want to be in the charity hospital, would you?" She folded her arms and looked Abigail up and down. "Let's get you bathed and find something more suitable for you to wear. You won't be needing that fancy gown in here. My name is Mrs Byrne, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you," said Abigail automatically. "But I shouldn't be here. I'm every bit as sane as you are."

Mrs Byrne gave a short laugh. "If I had a silver dollar for every time I heard those words in here... Come on, Abigail. I haven't got all day. Let's get you sorted and then I'll take you to Madame Diyoza and you can tell _her_ how sane you are."

Abigail followed Mrs Byrne down a long stone corridor lit by tiny barred windows set high up in the walls. This was madness. Whoever this Madame Diyoza was, she would soon see how ridiculous this was. She would be out of here by this afternoon, and somehow she would get a ship back to Port of Spain if she had to roll up her sleeves and _work_ her passage. Nothing mattered any more. the money wasn't important, only please God, let her get out of here and back to Marcus. Her throat constricted at the thought of him. She realised she would do manual work all day and sleep on straw at night as long as she was lying next to him. She had never felt like this about Jacob. Damn him. She understood what he had done. She'd heard stories about men having their wives incarcerated for supposed madness, but never in a million years would she have dreamed it would happen to _her_. 

Mrs Byrne led the way into a room with several tubs full of water. "Take off your clothes," she said. "And don't be coy. You've nothing I haven't seen before."

When Abigail stood naked and shivering before her, Mrs Byrne pointed to one of the baths. "In you get and no dawdling, not that I imagine you'll want to," she added with a wry smile.

Abigail soon found out why; the water in the bath was freezing. She grabbed the bar of soap that sat on the side of the tub and washed herself as quickly as she could, trying not to think of the last time she had taken a bath, then she stepped out and took hold of the rough, once white towel that the other woman handed to her. She dried herself hastily not wishing to remain in a state of undress for any longer than was necessary. 

When she was dry, Mrs Byrne handed her what she thought at first was a sheet, but on closer examination turned out to be a loose linen dress more like a nightdress that anything one would wear in the day. Mrs Byrne eyed her hair. "If you're a good girl and don't make any trouble for anyone, we'll let you keep that. Any misbehaving though and your head will be shaved. You understand?"

Abigail slipped the dress on over her head. "My husband would not like that," she said. 

Mrs Byrne laughed. "Your husband has agreed to any measures that will enable you to be returned to him as the good obedient wife you once were. Now come along. We don't want to keep Madame Diyoza waiting."  

Abigail followed the other woman along the corridor where she unlocked a huge, heavy iron door, then down another corridor lined with doors. Some of them were open and Abigail could see other women dressed like herself sitting or lying on their beds. Other doors were closed and she could hear cries and moans coming from behind them. She glanced at Mrs Byrne who simply nodded.

"We get all sorts in here," she said. "Ah, here we are." She opened another door and they stepped into a pleasant hallway with a wooden floor, and windows looking out onto a garden. At the end of the hallway was another door and Mrs Byrne knocked upon it.

"Come in," came a woman's voice and Mrs Byrne opened the door and motioned for Abigail to go in. 

"The new patient, Madame," she said and she took up a position in front of the door.

A woman was seated behind a desk and she gestured to a chair. "Please sit," she said to Abigail. 

The woman was younger than Abigail and had the potential to be a great beauty, with cheekbones like clam shells and pouting lips that curved up at the side like a cat's. But her hair was scraped back into a tight bun and she was dressed in black which made her look too severe. 

"Lady Abigail Griffin," she said, tilting her head to one side and regarding Abigail with a half-smile which might have been friendly or might have been amused, it was difficult to tell.

"Yes," said Abigail. There was something about the woman that made Abigail want to tell her as little as possible.

"You'll be known as Abigail here," said Madame Diyoza. "You will address the staff as Mr or Mrs and you will address me as Madame. I know this may seem strange and perhaps you think that your husband's money entitles you to better treatment, but we find it is beneficial to our patients to practice humility. Do you understand me?"

"Perfectly," said Abigail. "But I need to tell you something before we go any further. I shouldn't be here. There's absolutely nothing wrong with me."

Madame Diyoza smiled showing perfect white teeth. "Perhaps there isn't, perhaps there is. Your husband says you are delusional however, and as you are his property, he is the one to whose opinion I must listen, not you."

"Oh come on," scoffed Abigail. "You seem like an intelligent woman. You don't believe that wives belong to their husbands, surely?"

Madame Diyoza stared at Abigail for a long moment. She was still smiling, but she no longer looked in the least bit friendly. "Your husband is paying for your care here. I have nothing to gain from listening to your protestations. I have a business to run, you understand. Besides, you are only telling me what every woman coming through that door tells me." She looked up at Mrs Byrne. "I think we have finished here, Byrne. You may take Abigail back to her room. I think we'll keep her door locked until she becomes a little more biddable.

Mrs Byrne took hold of Abigail's upper arm as a sign that she was to rise from her seat and Abigail shook it off. 

"My husband won't pay you forever," she said angrily. "What will you do then?"

"Well if your husband is unwilling to pay for your upkeep but no longer wants you back, then you will have to be sent to the charity hospital," said Madame Diyoza. "I shall pray for your sake that will never happen." She stood up behind her desk. "You may go now," she said. "And Byrne, I think Abigail may benefit from an ice bath tonight. She has a hot temperament, it seems and I'm sure she would profit from some time to cool off." She smiled at Abigail. "I wish you good day, Abigail and I really do recommend you try to fit in here. This is your home now." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the angst. But this is Kabby, it's going to take a while for Happily Ever After. As usual I love to read your comments.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so sad writing Monty and Harper!

"Papa, pass me the ladle please. Papa!"

"What? Sorry." Marcus shook himself and handed the utensil to Octavia.

"You know when we offered to work for Finn to pay for our bed and board, I didn't think I'd be doing all the work myself," Octavia reproved him.

Marcus sighed. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart. I'm just worried. It's been five weeks. She swore to me she'd be back within the month." He wiped the back of his hand across his brow and thrust his fingers into his hair. 

"Don't worry, Papa. I'm sure there's some explanation." But she'd been saying this for the past ten days and he could see she didn't believe it any more than he did.

"I'm not giving it much longer," he said. "If she's not here on the next ship from Nassau, I'm going after her." 

"Well, Bellamy and Clarke will be visiting tomorrow,"she said. "We'll discuss it with them." At his look, she shook her head. "Please, Papa. Don't do anything rash."

 

"I'm going after Abigail," Marcus said. "There is a ship in the harbour leaving for Nassau in the morning. I've spoken with the captain and negotiated a fair price for my passage."

"I'm coming with you," said Clarke.

"No," said Bellamy immediately.

She rounded on him. "Are you trying to tell me what to do, Bellamy Blake?"

"Of course not," he answered. "You know I'm not that sort of husband. But I'm begging you please, Clarke. If your father sees you, he'll make you stay somehow."

"I'm a married woman," she said, tossing her head. "My father has no power over me. And I need to see my mother, find out why she's not here."

"Then I'm coming too," said Bellamy with a sigh.

"You are not!" she retorted. "Why, he might...he might challenge you to a duel or worse."

"Clarke," said Marcus. "Someone needs to stay here in case your mother arrives after I've left. And Bellamy obviously has no intention of letting you go alone and as you say, he could be walking into danger if he sets foot on Nassau. If I go alone, no-one will know who I am. I can make enquiries, hopefully speak with her if I can find someone to take a message."

"You can go to the servants entrance," said Clarke. "Ask to speak with Harper. She's my mother's maid. She's only young, but she's fiercely loyal to my mother."

"I can give you the address of someone who will help you too," said Bellamy. "Monty Green has been like a brother to me these past years. I'll give you a letter to give to him."

"Is he trustworthy?" asked Marcus frowning. 

"I'd trust him with my life," said Bellamy.

Marcus nodded. "Write the letter then."

"I'm coming with you, Papa," said Octavia.

Marcus couldn't help a small smile. "No," he said shaking his head. "No."

"Yes!" she said, stamping her foot. "I can't let you go without me. I can be useful. Please, Papa! Don't leave me. I'm begging you!" Her voice broke and something inside Marcus did too.

He sat down heavily and closed his eyes as reality overwhelmed him. What was he thinking of, leaving his children again? Look at what had happened last time. He was a grown man, a father, not some lovelorn youth. He had responsibilities. And Abigail...she was a fantasy. He'd thought they had something, but obviously he was wrong. She'd been carried away by her sense of adventure, but now she was back with her husband where she belonged, and if she thought of Marcus at all, it was with a vague fondness, nothing to compete with nearly twenty years of marriage.

"I won't go," he said, without opening his eyes. "It was a fool's errand anyway. Abigail has obviously made up her mind as to where she wants to be."

He was startled by a warm weight landing in his lap and opened his eyes to see the deep blue eyes of his daughter looking back at him. 

"I'm sorry, Papa," she said and she wound her arms about his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. "You must go after Abigail. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

Marcus bent his head to drop a kiss into her hair, remembering as he did that the last time she had been in his lap she was an infant and yet her hair still smelled the same. 

"I don't want you to be sad," he said. "You need me more than Abigail does."

"Oh for pity's sake," said Clarke. "Marcus, you're forgetting one very important thing. You seem to think my mother coming back here was all about you, but she was determined to come to England with Bellamy and me. She wants to be there when her grandchildren are born. I am almost sure she is not staying in Nassau of her own accord. Somehow my father has induced her to stay."

"Do you think he has her confined to the house?" asked Bellamy.

She shrugged. "There's only one way to find out. Either Marcus or myself must go after her. And Marcus, I may have spent only a short time with you both, but I saw the way my mother looked at you, and though it pains me to say it, she never looked at my father that way. If you think that all she felt for you was a passing fancy, then you don't know her at all. She has tried all these years to be a good wife to my father, and would continue to do so, but surely the combined forces of a mother's love for her daughter and that of a woman for her...her lover must be strong enough to outweigh any sort of wifely duty she might feel towards my father." She opened a small drawstring bag attached to her waist. "Lady Diana has given me money to order gowns from a dressmaker as my clothes were lost at sea. There is more than enough here for my requirements. Let me pay something towards your expenses."

"Octavia?" Marcus tilted her chin and looked into her eyes which were shining now with what strangely seemed like excitement.

"You must go, Papa," she said. She got up from his lap. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine."

 

Captain Ridley threw open the door to a small but comfortable looking cabin. 

"There's a bed and there's a hammock. Take your choice," he said. "I'll be eating in my cabin this evening if you care to join me."

Marcus didn't particularly care to at all. The captain smelled as if he had worn the same clothes for a twelvemonth, but he had offered passage to Nassau for a reasonable fare so Marcus nodded.

"Of course," he said. "I look forward to it."

The captain nodded curtly and left Marcus alone.

Marcus sat on the edge of the narrow bed and sighed. Was this a fool's errand? Maybe it was. But he had to know whether Abigail felt the same about him as he did about her. That night they'd made love, she had more or less told him she was in love with him. Had it been merely passion? He knew enough of women to know that they could be fooled by their passion for a man to think it something more. 

As he sat, lost in memories of their night together, there was a soft tapping on his door. "Come in," he called and he turned as the door opened and Lincoln came into the room.

"What?" His stomach flipped over at the thought that Jaha's men were aboard, but Lincoln shook his head at his alarm.

"I've left Jaha," he said. "I don't like to stay in one place for too long. I've come to say I'd appreciate it if you didn't let the good captain know he has a pirate in his crew."

"As long as you don't let him know he has a pirate for a passenger," said Marcus, grinning. He liked Lincoln and would forever owe him a debt of gratitude for the way he had dispatched that odious man, Emerson.  

"We have a deal," said Lincoln.

 

The next time Lincoln came to his door, they were two nights into their voyage.

"Marcus, there's something you need to see," he said. 

Marcus followed the other man across the deck and down steps until they were in the hold. "I believe this belongs to you," Lincoln said, holding up his lantern to illuminate one corner where among sacks of cargo sat a young woman who, despite her clothes being covered in dust and her hair in need of a good brushing, was unmistakably Marcus' youngest child. 

"Octavia!" he said in a shocked whisper. "What in God's name are you doing here?"

She stared back at him, her expression a mixture of defiance and trepidation. "I can be useful," she said. 

Marcus shook his head, partly in admiration for her bravery and her skill in boarding the ship unseen, (she was _his_ daughter, no doubt of it) and partly in exasperation. "What am I to do with you?" he said. "What am I to say to the captain?"

"You don't have to say anything to him," she said. "He needn't know I'm here."

"Octavia, I am not leaving you down here among the cargo and the rats," he said firmly. "Come here." He held out his hand to her and when she took it, he hauled her none too gently after him up onto the deck and across to the captain's cabin.

Ridley's eyes opened wide at the sight of Octavia as Marcus pulled her into his cabin.

"What have we here?" he said, getting to his feet. "A stowaway?"

"My daughter," said Marcus grimly. "My sincerest apologies, Captain. It seems, despite my forbidding her to come with me, she has taken matters into her own hands. I will of course pay for her passage."

"Hmmm," said Ridley. He came to stand before Octavia, his hands on his hips. "Disobeying your father, hey, girl?"

"Yes, Sir," said Octavia with a meekness Marcus knew very well was false. 

"If you were mine, I'd take a whip to you," the Captain said. "In fact..." He turned and walked over to a cupboard in the corner from where he drew out a large fearsome looking cane. "If you'd like to borrow this," he said to Marcus.

Marcus had to restrain an impulse to take it from the man and snap it in two. But he had the feeling money alone wouldn't satisfy the man, he wanted his pound of flesh. He pulled up his shirt to show the thick leather belt that he wore around his waist. "Thank you but I'll see that she gets a good strapping." 

"Excellent," said Ridley, beaming. "I don't have other accommodation for the girl. She'll have to share with you."

"That's fine," said Marcus. 

As they walked back across the deck, Octavia tugged at his sleeve. "Papa, you're not really going to thrash me, are you?"

"What do _you_ think?" he asked her. "Have I ever laid a finger on you? Still, you'd be as well to wince when you sit down in front of the captain for the next day or two."

Octavia laughed. "Don't worry, Papa. It won't be hard to fool him. The man's an idiot."

Marcus rounded on her. "This is no laughing matter, Octavia. I may not be about to thrash you, but by the time I'm finished scolding you, you may wish I had."

 

It took a while but eventually he was able to reduce Octavia to tears. He hated to do it, his heart almost broke at the sight of her with tears rolling down her cheeks, but he had to do something about her recklessness. He had started out by quietly remonstrating with her, trying to impress upon her the foolishness of her actions, but when half way through, she had stood up as if she'd heard enough, he'd had to do something to shock her.

"Sit down!" he barked and was gratified to see her gasp in surprise.

"Did you ever stop to think how much you would complicate things?" he demanded, his face stern and unforgiving. "Now I have to worry about you as well as take care of myself. On my own, I could have kept a low profile, a man on his own attracts little attention, but a man and a young girl is another thing altogether."

"Then we'll split up," she said sullenly. "You can go and speak to Monty Green and I'll go and talk to Abigail's maid."

"We are not splitting up," he said. "I'm responsible for you, Octavia."

"You don't have to be," she said. "I'm a grown woman, I'm not your little girl anymore."

At this, Marcus felt something swell inside him and he knew if it burst, _he_ would be the one in tears.

"You don't understand," he said softly. "I wasn't there for you when you _were_ a little girl and that's something that will haunt me for the rest of my days. One day, when you're a parent, you'll understand something of the pain I've been through thinking I'd lost you, and you'll know why I want to keep you safe now."

"I've been through pain too," she cried. "Every night, I'd say a prayer that tomorrow would be the day you would come for me! Bellamy tried to tell me you were dead but I knew you weren't. I'm sorry I disobeyed you, I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, but I couldn't just watch you sail away without me." Her face was flushed and angry. "And you were right, Papa. I _would_ rather you beat me than make me feel like this! I didn't mean to be an inconvenience to you, you can put me on the next ship home if you want." And that was when the first tears began to fall. 

Marcus held out for as long as he possibly could, then he got up and went to sit next to her on the bed. He put his arms about her and pulled her head down onto his shoulder. 

"SShhh," he comforted her. "I'm sorry for shouting, sweetheart but I just want to make sure you never do anything so silly again. And I'm glad you're here with me now. But you must promise me." He tilted her chin so that she was looking up into his eyes. "Promise me, Octavia, that until we get home you will do _exactly_ as I say. No arguing, no going off on your own because you've had some rash idea. Or I might just send you back home after all." He gently wiped the tears from her cheek and sighed. "I'm afraid you're more like me than I'd want."

She smiled up at him. "I'm glad I'm like you," she said. "And I know you wouldn't send me home. You wouldn't want me out of your sight. Although..." She paused, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I'm sure I wouldn't mind too much if you asked Lincoln to keep an eye on me."

Marcus shook his head. It seemed she was more like him than he'd thought.

 

"Honestly, it makes more sense this way," Octavia assured him. "What would a man of your age be wanting with a young maid?"

"Alright," he said. "But stick to the script. You ask to speak to Harper and when you're alone with her, you ask her to take a message to her mistress, that Octavia Blake would like to speak to her. Don't mention me at all."

"Yes, I've got it," said Octavia. "But are you sure you don't want to give me a note for Abigail?"

He shook his head. "No, a note would be too easy to intercept. Now go. I'll be waiting right here with the horse."

He watched as she walked jauntily up the path to the Griffin residence and made her way to the rear entrance. The house was much bigger than he'd imagined it to be and his heart sank as he looked up at the many windows looking out over perfectly manicured gardens. How could he have expected Abigail to leave all this behind for a life of uncertainty with him? He imagined her arriving home and realising that the adventure was just that - an adventure, but that  _this_ was where she really belonged. He squinted in the sun as he tried to imagine which window was hers. Was she even now looking out? Would she see him leaning against the enormous stone gatepost? Would she come down to speak to Octavia? Surely she would. She wouldn't leave him hanging like this. She'd let him know her decision. 

His heart leapt into his mouth as Octavia appeared and ran down the path towards him. Surely she had been too quick.

"Papa," she panted. "Harper is not here anymore. The man I spoke to said that she'd been given notice after Lady Abigail left. He said it was about a month ago!"

Marcus drew in his breath sharply. "A month ago? Then she did leave. But then where is she?"

Octavia paled. "You don't think she was on her way to us and her ship was lost?"

Marcus felt the world tilt on its axis. "I'm...I'm sure we would have heard if a ship had been lost," he said. "The route between here and Port of Spain is well travelled. Somebody would have seen wreckage or...or..."

"Papa, lean on me," commanded Octavia. "You look as if you are about to faint. I'm sorry. I'm sure you're right. But then where is she?"

Marcus pulled her to him. "We need more information," he said. "We need to find Harper."

 

To his relief, Monty Green's residence was nowhere near as imposing as the Griffin house and Marcus felt emboldened to ring the bell at the front door. After a few moments, the door was opened by a pretty young serving girl who regarded Marcus and Octavia with curiosity.

"I have a letter for Monty Green," said Marcus, holding out the envelope from Bellamy.

"Will you be waiting for a reply?" asked the girl. She looked undecided as to whether to let them in or not.

Marcus made it easy for her. "We'll just wait here," he said, smiling at her.

The girl nodded and closed the door on them.

A few minutes later it was flung open by a young man who from Bellamy's description, Marcus knew must be Monty.

"Come in!" Monty cried and he showed them into a small parlour. He closed the door then grasped Marcus' hand and shook it enthusiastically. "I am so glad to meet you," he said. "Bellamy hardly spoke of you to me when he was living here but his letter explains everything! You must be so happy to have reunited with him and your daughter!" 

"I can't put my feelings into words," said Marcus. He liked this young man immediately and could see why Bellamy had said he would trust him with his life. 

"I'm Octavia," said Octavia. "Bellamy's sister."

"And every bit as beautiful as he said you were," said Monty. There was no trace of flirtation in his manner, nothing to make Marcus' hackles rise, just an honest compliment. 

"Please, sit down," said Monty. "Can I get you anything, some tea perhaps?" And he pulled on a rope that hung down near the fireplace. 

"We were wondering whether you could shed any light on where Lady Griffin went," said Marcus.

"Well we used to see her in church," said Monty. "But then she was taken by pirates and it was thought she had been killed. This wasn't the case, however and she came back home but we haven't seen her since. My mother enquired of Sir Jacob as to her health and he said that she was currently nursing a sick relative some way off from here."

"I went to the servants' entrance at lady Abigail's house," said Octavia as the door opened and the young maid came in. Marcus tried to catch her eye to tell her to stop talking, but it seemed Octavia was a stranger to the idea of diplomacy.

"I wanted to talk to her maid, Harper," Octavia continued. "But it seems she has been dismissed and they did not know where she'd gone."

"Begging your pardon, Sir," said the maid with a curtsy. "Harper is my friend and I can tell you where she has gone."

Monty clapped his hands together. "Splendid! Please tell us, Fox."

"Sir Jacob let Harper go the very next morning after Lady Abigail left," said Fox. She frowned. "She did think it strange, Sir, that her Ladyship would leave so suddenly. She had promised Harper a reference but she didn't even say goodbye to her. Sir Jacob gave her a month's wages and told her she must leave immediately."

"And where did she go?" asked Marcus. A band of pain seemed to be squeezing his chest. Something wasn't right about this at all.

"There's a coaching inn a mile north from here," the maid said. "She has found employment there, Sir."

"Thank you, Fox," said Monty. "You have been most helpful." He turned to Marcus. "Some refreshment, Sir?"

"Just a glass of water, if you'd be so kind," said Marcus. "Unless you'd like something more, Octavia?"

She shook her head. "We can have some lunch at the inn while we speak to Harper."

"If there's anything I can do to help," offered Monty. "Do you have horses?" 

"We have one between us," admitted Marcus. "And he is in need of a rest."

"Then we shall stable him here," said Monty. "And if you'll permit me to accompany you, we shall take the carriage."

"Thank you," said Marcus. He clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Bellamy told me you were like a brother to him. Thank you for that."

"I couldn't love him more if he were my own flesh and blood," said Monty.

 

The landlord of the inn showed them to a table near to the window while the ostler saw that the horses were fed and watered. "I'll send the wench over to you," he said. 

The wench turned out to be a pretty young woman with long fair hair worn in a braid. Could this be Harper? Could it be this easy?

"Will you be wanting ale, Sirs, or something to eat?" she said.

"We'll be having food," said Marcus. "But first, do you know of a young lady by the name of Harper?"

The girl frowned. "My name is Harper," she said. "Harper McIntyre. Is it me you're wanting?"

"You worked as maid to Lady Abigail Griffin," said Monty. "I remember seeing you in church."

The girl looked shyly at Monty through her lashes. "I remember you too, Sir."

Monty leaned forward urgently. "We are looking for Lady Abigail and we were hoping you might know something of where she has gone."

Harper hesitated then looked round but no-one was paying them any attention. "Sir Jacob told me that she had gone to stay with her cousin but..."

"You don't think that's the case?" prompted Monty.

Harper looked around her again. "I should be working, Sir."

 

Monty gestured to a stool. "Please join us, Harper and if your employer complains, tell him I will pay him handsomely for your time."

Harper seemed torn then she sat down. "If I can help Lady Abigail in any way," she said. 

"Please, tell us what you know," said Marcus. 

"Lady Abigail did tell me she would be going to stay with her cousin," the girl said. "But she gave no indication that she would be going so soon. I went to her room as usual the morning after she returned home only to be met by Sir Jacob. He stopped me from going into Lady Abigail's bedchamber and told me she had gone. He told me to fetch my things and go down to the kitchen where he would bring me the money I was owed and more besides. But..." She stopped. 

"Go on," said Marcus sharply.

"The servants' quarters are in the attic," Harper said. "Also in the attic is the luggage room. I looked in on my way to collect my belongings and all of Lady Abigail's luggage was still there. Surely she would have packed for a long journey. I didn't know what was going on but I knew something wasn't right. Then when I went downstairs to wait for my wages, I spoke to Monroe, the scullery maid. She'd been up long after we'd all gone to bed, cleaning the kitchen range. She said she'd just finished and she stepped outside to get some fresh air before going to bed, and she saw a black carriage just turning out of the drive. She said it had a gold cross painted on the side and black curtains in the window so she couldn't see who was inside. But I'm sure it must have been Lady Abigail, Sir."

"A gold cross, you say?" said Monty, frowning. 

"Do you know who that coach belongs to?" said Marcus eagerly. 

Monty was silent for a moment then he cleared his throat. "A little over a year ago, my mother's sister came to stay with us. Unfortunately, she became quite unwell, not herself at all. We called the doctor and he said a stay in Eligius was the only treatment that would work. The men who came to take her there came in a black coach with a gold cross."

"What...what is Eligius?" asked Marcus.

Monty looked bleakly at him. "Eligius is a private hospital for the insane." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Comments welcome as always.


	17. Chapter 17

"No! Get off me! I won't go with you! I'll kill you! Get off me, Byrne, you bitch!"

The girl called Luna struggled in the grip of Mrs Byrne and the two men before one of the men knocked her unconscious with a blow to the head. They dragged her out of the communal room where the women where allowed to mix freely as long as they behaved themselves. 

Abigail watched in horror. "What will they do to her?" she asked the two other women in the room.

"Don't worry," said one of the women, a beautiful girl of no more than twenty-five. "They'll lock her in her room, maybe treat her to a few ice baths. They'll threaten to cut off her hair too. That usually works with Luna." She ran her gaze over Abigail appraising her then she nodded as if satisfied. "I'm Lexa."

"And I'm Echo," said the other girl, a statuesque beauty several years older than Lexa. "What did you do to get shut away in here?"

"I'm Abigail. And my husband had me sent here," said Abigail. "I told him I was leaving him." She gave a wry smile. "He didn't take it well." 

Lexa snorted. "Typical man. Always needing to be in control."

"Oh, not all men are that bad," Abigail protested. She thought of Marcus and her heart seemed to contract in agony. She pushed the thought of him aside. There was no point in thinking of him now. "It was a man who sent you here then, Lexa?"

"My father," the girl said. "He wanted me to marry a fat old goat just because he had money and a title. I told him I'd rather die." She spoke bitterly but Abigail sensed a sadness weighing down her words. 

"Was there a young man you wanted to marry?" Abigail asked gently, thinking of Clarke and Bellamy.

"There was someone but we could never have been married," said Lexa. "She was my governess. When my father found out, he sent her away and tried to force me into marriage." She grinned at Abigail. "Have I shocked you?"

"Not at all," said Abigail. "Love comes in all shapes and sizes. I fell in love with a pirate. I'm sure most people of my acquaintance would be shocked by that."

Echo laughed. "We're not most people."

"What about you?" Abigail asked her. "How did you come to be here?"

"Similar to Lexa," the other girl said. "My father sent me here because I wouldn't marry at all. He thinks a few years in here will change my mind. There wasn't anyone else in my case. I just have no intention of marrying."

"But you surely don't want to stay in here," said Abigail. "You could be lucky in your father's choice of husband. I was, well I used to think I was. At least Jacob was young and handsome and he was never cruel."

Echo pulled a face. "You're not making a case for marriage, Abigail. I don't want _any_ man to control my destiny. I'm an only child and when my father dies, I'll inherit his fortune. If he thinks I'll hand over control of my money to a man, he has another think coming."

"I imagine he wants grandchildren," said Abigail. "If you're an only child, his line will die out if you don't marry."

Echo laughed. "I told him if he really wanted me to marry, the only man I'd consider was Roan. I don't have romantic feelings for him but he's my best friend and he'd never try to control me or my money. But he wasn't good enough for my father." She shrugged. "So here I am."

Abigail looked round but they were alone in the room. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice. 

"Has anyone ever tried to escape?" she asked.

"There's no escape without help from someone on the outside, " said Echo. She shook her head in disgust. "If Roan knew where I was, he'd do something to get me out. I know he would."

"What about your pirate?" Lexa asked.

"He doesn't know I'm here," said Abigail. 

 

"So, what do we do now?" Harper asked, sitting on the long bench next to Monty in the only tavern in the village.

"We rest here for the night," said Marcus. "After that, I don't know yet." He sighed.

They had ridden up to the gates of Eligius earlier on. The place was like a fortress. Any hope that Marcus had entertained about breaking in and snatching Abigail was quickly dashed at the sight of those thick, forbidding walls. The windows were tiny and covered with iron bars so no chance of breaking in that way. There was an annex with larger windows but Marcus guessed that would probably be where the warden had his office. Maybe he could break in there, hold the man hostage at gunpoint. He sighed. He had to think carefully about this. He would only have one chance.

"Is my husband here? Has anyone seen my husband?" Marcus turned to see a tall dark-haired woman with a small boy in her arms. "Please, my son, he needs help."

Marcus jumped up. "What's wrong?" He ran to the woman and saw that the child was gasping for breath. 

"He - he was eating a mango and then he just started choking. Please can you help him?" The woman grabbed Marcus' sleeve. 

Marcus took the child from her arms and laid him face down across his lap. He remembered the exact same thing happening to Bellamy. He had saved his son, please God he could save this boy. He made his hand into a fist and thumped the boy between his shoulder-blades. The boy made a choking sound and Marcus hit him again. Another choking sound and a gasp. Marcus thumped him as hard as he dared and a piece of mango shot out onto the floor. The boy drew a shuddering breath and Marcus handed him back to his mother.

"Oh thank you, thank you," cried the woman, tears of relief running down her cheeks. "What is your name, Sir? I must tell my husband. He will be so grateful."

"I'm Marcus Kane," said Marcus. "And there's no need to thank me. I'm just glad your son is all right." He turned to the boy and wagged his finger at him. "And be careful in future when you're eating mangoes, young man."

"He's never eating mango again," said the woman firmly. "I'm Becca Jackson. If there's anything I can do for you in return, you only have to ask." 

 

Marcus nodded to the tavern wench and she refilled his mug with rum. He'd told himself no more rum and he knew he needed to keep a clear head right now but a whole afternoon sober hadn't furnished him with any bright ideas. Maybe drunkenness would inspire him. His companions had retired to bed some time ago but Marcus knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he had thought of a way to get Abigail out of that place.

"Well, when my wife told me she'd met a man called Marcus Kane, I thought to myself, it can't be the same Marcus Kane, surely."

Marcus looked up startled and then his brow cleared and he gave a shout of laughter. "Eric Jackson! My God, man! What are you doing here?"

"I live here," said the other man. "I'm the town doctor."

"Sit down, sit down," said Marcus. He did a double take. "Your wife? But you...I mean."

"It's a long story," said Jackson. "But what are you doing here? And how is Callie?" He laughed and shook his head. "We had some times, the three of us, remember?"

"I do indeed," said Marcus. Jackson had been the one who had treated Callie's girls when they fell sick. They had always trusted him because they knew he didn't look at them in the way that other men did. It hadn't stopped some of them from trying to entice him though. They'd all missed him when he left after a young groomsman had broken his heart.

"You saved my son, Ethan," said Jackson. "If there's any way I can repay you, Marcus you only have to say the word."

"You can start by taking a drink with me," said Marcus. "And then you can tell me this long story. I'm intrigued as to how you found yourself married to a woman and with a son too. That's not the Eric Jackson I remember." He beckoned the wench over and waited while she poured Jackson a mug of rum. 

Jackson took a long swig. "That's good rum," he said. He put his mug down on the table and leaned forward speaking quietly. "When I arrived here, Becca was the first friend I made. She thought of me as more than a friend at the very beginning but I trusted her enough to be honest with her and we soon became best friends and confidantes." He frowned. "So when she told me she'd fallen in love with a young man, I was happy for her but anxious too. I knew what a tender, trusting heart she had and I was afraid she'd get hurt." He took another swig of his drink. "He was a good looking man, no doubt about that. For a moment when I met him, I was a little jealous. But that soon turned to concern. He was pleasant enough but there was just something about him, I couldn't put my finger on what it was..." He looked about them to make sure no-one could hear them.  "They soon became engaged to be married and then she told me that he'd encouraged her to lie with him before the wedding. He'd told her an engagement ring was as good as a wedding ring." He smiled at Marcus. "No doubt this all sounds strange to you, a man of the world."

"No, not at all," said Marcus. "In fact I have a whole new appreciation of virtuous women."

Jackson raised his eyebrows in query.

"Later," said Marcus. "Carry on with your story."

"Very well," said Jackson. "But it sounds as if you have a story of your own to tell, Marcus, not the least as to how you came to lose your accent. You sound quite the gentleman." He took another swig of rum. "Anyway, it wasn't long after this that he left, just vanished into thin air. He did leave her something to remember him by though. When she found out she was with child, she was beside herself, terrified of the ruin she would bring down upon herself and her family. She was blessed with loving parents and she just couldn't bring herself to break their hearts. She was ready to leave town, leave everything behind her, vanish just as her fiance had. And that was when I proposed."

"Really?" Marcus shook his head then he grasped the other man's hand. "You always were the best of men, Eric Jackson."

"She refused me at first," said Jackson. "She said she couldn't ruin my life but then I told her of the deep sadness I had always carried inside me. I had wanted a child so badly, Marcus. But for a man in my position, the only way to have children would be to marry some poor unsuspecting woman and condemn myself to a life of deceit. But Becca knew me. She knew who I was and we loved each other as friends. I told her we could make it work, and that if at any time, she met someone else and wanted to marry him, I would set her free. She in turn told me that I was free to pursue my own liaisons as long as I was discreet."

"And you've made it work," said Marcus. 

"We have," said Jackson. "And I have a son, Marcus. A fine young boy who thinks I am the man who sired him and, please God, will never know any different. Becca and I we don't lie together but in all other regards we are as loving and affectionate to each other as any other married couple, perhaps more so." He smiled. "And what about you, old friend? What brings you to this sleepy little corner of the world?"

"The woman I love is locked up in the asylum here," said Marcus.

"In Eligius?" Jackson raised his eyebrows. "What's her name?"

"Abigail," Marcus said softly. "Abigail Griffin, _Lady_ Abigail Griffin I should say."

"I've met her," said Jackson. "She's a beauty but how do you know her?"

Marcus' heart almost leapt out of his chest. "You've met her?"

"No need for alarm," Jackson reassured him. "Madame Diyoza has me examine all new inmates when they arrive to make sure they don't have any sickness that could spread to the other women. I'm happy to tell you that Lady Abigail was perfectly well." He chuckled. "If a little fiery."

"She is, isn't she?" Marcus said proudly. "You know, I learned long ago never to tell a woman that she looks beautiful when she's angry. It doesn't improve their temper, believe me. But it's true about Abby. You can almost see the sparks flashing in her eyes."

"But how do you know her?" asked Jackson again. "Is she the reason you're speaking differently? Are you a gentleman now, Marcus?"

"It's a long story," said Marcus. "We're going to need a lot more rum."

 

By the time he'd finished his tale, they'd drunk another two mugs of rum and Marcus was feeling a little light-headed. Clearly he was out of practice. 

Jackson grasped his arm. "My God, Marcus, what a tale. And the most fantastical part of it is that you have two children. I never would have guessed it. And yet..." He looked off into the distance as if remembering. "You always seemed so happy and carefree but there were times when you seemed to be somewhere else and there was a look in your eyes...I always wondered what you must be thinking of to make you look so troubled." He smiled. "I'm so happy that you were reunited with them at last. And Lady Abigail, she's changed you, Marcus. I used to think when I saw you with Callie that you loved her but I see by the way you speak of Abigail that this is something much more than you felt for Callie."

"I do love Callie dearly," said Marcus. "But it's different with Abby. With Callie, I could play the fool and the rogue but with Abby I find I want to be a better man. I want to be worthy of her love." 

"So you're here as a gallant knight to rescue your fair maiden," said Jackson. "But I must confess, I don't know how you'll manage it, Marcus. However, if there's anything I can do to help, you only have to ask, old friend."

"Thank you," Marcus said. "That means a lot."

"In fact," said Jackson. "Why don't you collect your things and come and stay with us? No need to spend your money at an inn when we have a spare bedchamber."

"I'd like nothing better," said Marcus. "But I'm not alone. I have Octavia with me."

"Well if you don't mind sleeping on the sofa, we can accommodate you both," said Jackson.

"I have two other people with me," said Marcus. "A young gentleman by the name of Monty Green and a young lady, Harper, who was formerly Abigail's maid. I couldn't leave them here unchaperoned."

"Worried what they might get up to?" said Jackson, waggling his eyebrows.

"Good Lord, no," said Marcus. "I think it's safe to say that Monty Green is the most honourable young man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. However, I must be mindful of Harper's reputation."

Jackson laughed. "Well, I never thought I'd see the day when Marcus Kane would trouble himself about the reputation of a ladies' maid."

"I have a daughter now," said Marcus softly. "When I found her, she was working as a tavern wench. Her reputation is every bit as important to me as the most high-born young lady in the Caribbean."

"Hmm," said Jackson. "Well they could stay in my hospital, I suppose."

"You have a hospital?" said Marcus.

"Just a small annex on the house," said Jackson. "Becca's father had it built for me when I married his daughter. It's empty at the moment and in a village this small it's dreadfully underused. In fact the last time I had more than one patient was two years ago when there was an outbreak of scarlet fever in Eligius. Madame Diyoza had the four cases moved immediately into the hospital. Luckily nobody died." He clapped his hand to his mouth. "Of course!"

"What is it?" said Marcus.

"I have an idea," said Jackson.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments are most welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I will post the next chapter soon. Kudos and comments much appreciated.


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